


In Time

by FlyYouFools (MK47)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Romance, Swan Queen Week Winter 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-09-22 01:51:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 52,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9576917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MK47/pseuds/FlyYouFools
Summary: 5-year-old Henry Mills wants to take dance classes. His mother is reluctant, until she meets his teacher.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Two years since my last SQ story ended and no spark to write them again, sadly. So you can imagine my surprise 10 days ago when I was hit upside the head with this idea. Then I heard SQ Week was on the way. Obviously, this story was meant to be. I hoped for it to be done in time for the final day, but it is not. It's about 75% done. I'll post chapters every few days, which will buy me enough time to finish and not feel rushed. Unending thanks to Angie, who has been an amazing sounding board, beta, cheerleader, and friend — you wouldn't have this story were it not for her. Wonderful to see you again, I hope you enjoy.

The black Mercedes smoothly rolled to a stop in front of the old mill building, a mix of dirt and gravel crunching underneath $3,200 worth of tires. Regina Mills glanced out her driver’s side window, casting a wary eye on the structure, which had clearly seen better days — a generous assessment.

 Three worn stairs led to a small porch, such as it was, which needed a good sanding and staining. A faded white door sat on the porch, standing out among the red brick facade. The entrance was one of a dozen around the complex, a maze of buildings that currently housed a variety of small businesses; one whole building, still empty, displayed an impressive collection of broken windows on the third floor. A sign sporting fading black letters above the door weakly proclaimed “Step In Time Dance Academy.” _Dance Academy_ , Regina sniffed to herself. The night before she had shown her best friend the building on Google Maps. “Looks like a serial killer factory,” Kathryn quipped. “If you see a clown anywhere on the grounds, _run_.”

Regina checked herself in the rear-view mirror — crimson lipstick still perfectly in place, muted floral scarf tied smartly over a black raincoat. Summer had ended two days earlier, and Mother Nature wasted no time in sending temperatures south. A light mist fell, bringing a wet chill to the air, the clouds and overall grey of the day adding to the somewhat depressing surroundings.

“So, sweetheart,” she began, trying not to betray her true feelings on the undertaking at hand. ”Are you ready to go in? Sure you want to give this a try?” Her rich voice held that optimistic-yet-cautious fake tone that anyone over 7 could ferret out, yet lucky for her, Henry was only 5. 

“Yeah!”

She couldn’t help but smile at the small, yet enthusiastic, voice that piped up from the booster seat in the back. Nor could she stop the wide smile that lit up his whole face, brown eyes huge and ready for adventure.

“OK, let’s go.”

 Holding hands, they navigated the empty parking lot and _Carefully_ , Regina thought, walked up the stairs, which looked like they could give at any minute. Yet they didn’t make a sound and were surprisingly firm under her black dress boots. Once at the top, Henry made for the door and entered, with nary a glance behind him.

Regina followed suit, and was quickly assaulted by a riot of color. While the outside looked nearly abandoned, the inside — from the smell of it — sported a fresh coat of paint, bright buttercup yellow. Two rows of metal folding chairs lined the long hallway, with 8x10 headshots hung on one wall proclaiming, STAFF. Drop-ceiling tiles above featured hand prints of all sizes, in all colors. The entrance to a large rehearsal room sat opposite what served as an office, a window and counter cut out of the wall.

 “Afternoon, may I help you?” A smiling voice interrupted Regina’s review, the brunette starting a touch. To the right, she found a grey haired woman sitting at the front desk, eyes smiling at her over glasses that dropped halfway down her nose.

‘Yes, sorry. I’m Regina Mills. My son Henry is joining the 4 o’clock mini hip hop class.”

 The woman, who looked every bit a grandmother from central casting — glasses chain included — expertly tapped away at a laptop, never taking her eyes off Regina. “Nice to meet you, I’m Eugenia Lucas, everyone calls me Miss U.” Regina smiled politely, mentally noting she would do no such thing. “Yes, we have Mr. Henry right here. Looks like he’s registered and paid. Do you have his—”

 Before the woman could finish, Regina produced a sheet of paper: “—health record. Yes, right here.”

 Eugenia chuckled to herself, reaching for the document. _Of course you do._ After 22 years running a dance studio, she could spot a Type A Mom right away. “Need me to copy this?”

 “No, I copied it for you.”

 “Thanks much.” Type As were not shy, and sometimes demanding, but Eugenia admitted they did make her day easier. They paid on time and paid attention to the myriad details, especially around recital time. She’s take ’em over the Nice Flaky Moms any day.

 “Mills...Are you by any chance related to—”

 “Yes, he was my father.” _He_ and _was_ poked Regina sharply in the chest, the memory of her deceased father springing to life. For 34 years, Henry Mills had run the G &T Woolen Mill that spanned this entire complex in Denwick for 109 years, working his way up from day laborer to night school, to eventually the corner office. The mill was the lifeblood of the town, until 20 years ago when cheap labor made lucrative manufacturing jobs run south from New England like water through a sieve. Mills from Maine to Rhode Island shuttered one by one, like dominos. Henry Mills did his damndest to fight it, downsizing operations over and over, trying to save some jobs — any jobs — until the North Carolina owners finally pulled the plug altogether. Regina was convinced guilt over his inability to fight economics beyond his control contributed to his death at a young 62.

 “He was a lovely man. My Bruce worked in the dye department for 43 years. Always had wonderful things to say about your dad. He loved that mill and the employees.”

 A heartfelt smile warmed Regina’s face. “He did, truly.”

 “How wonderful your son will continue that fine name.”

Brown eyes widened, she had never thought about it in quite that way. “Yes, he will,” she agreed, the thought settling into her head.

 “Anyway…” Eugenia’s sharp continuation jolted Regina out of her reverie. “Young Henry here can dance in bare feet today. He’ll need hip hop shoes, you can get them at any dance store. Closest is On Your Toes in Islington, but you’ll pay more.” Regina didn’t miss the sharp tone around the mention of the neighboring town in which she lived. Working-class Denwick and neighboring Islington had a friendly (and sometimes not-so-friendly) rivalry. Islington was home to everyone from Denwick who made some money. The joke went that you could enter the dining room of the upscale Italian Islington restaurant Benne on a Saturday night, announce “Your mother from Denwick is on the phone,” and every patron would hop out of his seat to take the call. “They’re cheaper at Dance Mania in Elizabeth. Class is 45 minutes, recital is in June. His teacher will be…” Eugenia scanned a printout hanging to her left, “...hold on, new season. Still getting my head around it...oh, Emma. Miss Emma. She’s incredible. He’ll _love_ her.”

 Eugenia returned to her laptop, tip-tapping away until Regina cleared her throat. “Excuse me, but do I stay for class or leave?”

 “Oh! I’m sorry. I forgot that part. You’re welcome to stay, there’s a small observation window into every rehearsal room, but it does get crowded. Only 3 rooms and…” she clicked away at her laptop “...475 students this year. Most of the parents of the younger ones stay. Do whatever makes you feel comfortable. If you have any questions, Mrs. Mills, you just let me know. One rehearsal room is on this floor, two are one floor down. Minis are in...Green today — the room up here.”

 “Ms. Mills,” Regina corrected automatically, trying to parse the avalanche of information that just slid her way. _And if I wanted to be comfortable, I wouldn’t be here_. She was shocked Henry requested dance classes. Sure, he liked to bop around the house and loved music. “Mom, turn it UP!” he’d holler from the backseat, the second the radio caught half a beat of up-tempo current hits. Today’s music was not Regina’s taste at all, but soon enough Preset 1 in the Mercedes was HITZ 106, the Greater Boston area’s #1 station.

_It’s Kathryn’s fault_ , she noted for the umpteenth time, mentally chuckling at how many times that statement had crossed her mind over the years. She had seen Henry dancing around the house one day and within earshot of the boy suggested, “Regina, you should put him in dance class.” Of course Henry heard it. “Dance class? What’s THAT?” he asked, eyes wide.

 “Of course, I…” Eugenia covered, but was quickly saved by the door opening and, Regina swore, half an elementary school entering — girls chattering, mothers walking and talking in pairs, each faster than the next. She quickly found a seat across from the 2’x2’ observation window in the hallway-cum-waiting room and sat next to Henry, who already had his shoes off and was bouncing on his toes. He was wearing a white T-shirt and black gym shorts, the dress code for hip hop classes. She had read the studio’s website. Of course.

 Bodies tall and small streamed into the front door, which never seemed to close. Parents, obvious studio veterans, stopped and talked to Eugenia, asking about her summer or kids, while dancers plopped down wherever they fell and changed into their shoes. Regina spied a large chalkboard on the far wall, which had a section for each rehearsal room and the rundown of classes for the day. Preschool classes had run that morning, and everything from tap and ballet to Irish step and musical theatre would go through 9:30 tonight. No wonder Step In Time was voted the Reader’s Choice dance studio in the area for 8 years running, it certainly had a huge clientele.

 As Regina studied the board, her view was suddenly blocked by a toned torso and a set of firm breasts that stopped an inch from her nose.

 “Oh! Sorry!”

 She followed the apologetic voice north and found herself locked into a pair of smiling green eyes and fair features. A shock of blonde hair was piled on top of the woman’s head in a loose bun. On either side of Regina’s head, bare arms braced the lithe body against the wall, trying not to topple face-first onto the brunette’s lap.

 "Sorry, Miss Emma!”

 Regina snapped herself back into focus, tearing her eyes away from the breasts, down to a tiny girl, who was tangled in between the blonde’s legs.

 “Lizzie, what are you doing down there?” Emma laughed. Regina snuck a glance to her right and left, and found defined biceps at attention as the women held herself off the wall — and Regina.

 “I dunno.”

 A deep chuckle rolled out of the blonde. “Can you get out from under my legs? I can’t twist an ankle the first day of the season and I can’t land on this poor lady.” She punctuated the last statement with a wink at Regina.

 Tiny dancer extracted, Emma pushed off the wall and away from Regina with a slow exhale. “I’m very sorry about that,” she smiled again.

 “No problem,” Regina muttered, eyes following the blonde as she strode toward a rehearsal room. The white tank top hugged her stomach tightly, and a loud patterned pair of dance tights showcased a spectacular ass and firm thighs. The tights ended just under the woman’s knees, her calves defined and firm from dancing, no doubt. Regina inhaled the scent the woman left behind, she left a delicate hint of mint hung in the air, clean, crisp, and pleasant.

 “Where are my hip hoppers? Who’s ready to daaaaance?” Emma sang as she leaned one hip against the door of what a sign noted was The Green Room. Boys and girls stood and headed toward the room, high-fiving their teacher as they walked in.

 Henry jumped off the seat to his mother’s left and ran toward Miss Emma like a magnet, bare feet thudding against the floor. “Me!”

Emma smiled widely. “All right, my man! Right here.” She held up a palm just high enough that Henry had to jump to slap it. The woman followed Henry through the door, closing it behind her and stealing one last glance at the boy’s mother. Regina met her gaze once more and was rewarded with a second wink. The brunette’s jaw dropped slightly as the door closed with a thud, which was soon replaced by a pumping bass.

 

**TBC**  


	2. Chapter 2

And even though she’d deny it to Kathryn (lest the woman, God forbid, be right), Regina actually enjoyed her time at the studio. Her seat outside the observation window gave her a great view of class. There were six girls and three boys, all between the ages of 5 and 7. Regina watched Miss Emma bounce around the class to the beat, a ball of energy herself: clapping, smiling, and cheering the kids on non-stop. She could barely make out the teacher’s instructions muffled through the wall and over the sound of the music, but could tell she was teaching them step-touch: step one foot out to the side on the beat and bring the other to in to meet it on the next, then repeat in the opposite direction. First the class clapped to the beat, then they bounced to it, and lastly, tried to move their feet. Some got it, some didn’t, but all the kids were smiling and giggling, no one more than Miss Emma herself.

 “Isn’t she wonderful?” a woman to Regina’s right enthused. “Who’s your dancer?”

 “She certainly seems to like children.” An introvert’s introvert outside her natural surroundings, small talk wasn’t easy for Regina. Yet she set what she hoped was a kind look on her face and turned to her right. (“You have to _try_ and at least _talk_ to new people,” Kathryn lectured one night. “I know I set the bar high, but Henry is going to have friends and they’re going to have parents, and you can’t be the aloof, snobby one. That’s me.”)

 Regina pointed at the window. “Brown hair on the right, he’s the one not quite on the beat,” she chuckled. Henry was trying to step-touch in time, but off by more than a bit. Miss Emma squatted in front of him, back to the window, clapping and pointing at his feat to help him get on the beat. The position gave Regina a generous, appreciated view of one of the teacher’s best assets.

 “Not many of them are, don’t worry. Wait until you see them at recital in June. You won’t believe it!” She stuck out her hand, “I’m Sue. The purple leo’s mine.”

 Regina shook her hand politely and watched Purple Leo step-touch on the beat. “Regina, nice to meet you. Your daughter’s doing well.”

 “She has three older sisters who have danced here forever, she’s always trying to dance with them at home. She was so excited to join Mini today, she’s been dying to turn 5 so she could. Lilah, my daughter, _loves_ Miss Emma — she’s amazing.”

  _Well, her ass certainly is,_ Regina thought as the blonde swayed to the beat, step-touching.

 “I take it she’s quite popular?”

 “Miss Emma? Oh, yeah. She’s _the_ hip-hop teacher here. Everyone tries to get in her classes before they fill up. Miss Becky is fine, too, don’t get me wrong, but Miss Emma always seems to be the favorite. It’s not hard to see why…”

  _I’ll say,_ Regina smirked to herself.

 “Oh, looks like time’s up.”

 Regina realized the music had stopped. She watched Miss Emma high-five the children with one hand as they walked out, the other supporting the water bottle in her mouth. As the last child passed, she set down the bottle, grabbed a white hand towel, and dried the thin sheen of sweat off her face.

 “You know,” Sue started, gathering her daughter’s shoes and bag, “Miss Emma teaches Latin fitness Tuesdays and Thursdays, I try to come when I can. It’s a great workout if you were ever interested.”

 “Oh…” Regina began, her mind suddenly preoccupied with the thought of that firm body undulating in front of her in the same sweaty room. “...I can’t dance.”

 “It’s not dance, it’s Zumba — but they can’t call it ‘Zumba’ because they didn’t buy the license. It’s really easy — seriously, old people can do it. Think about it, it’s fun. It’s a great stress reliever and workout. Friend me on Facebook, if you like: Sue Walker. Search ‘Sue Langovin Walker’ and you’ll find me and not some chick in Iowa.”

 “I will, thanks.” _OK, this isn’t so bad. Yet_ another _admission I cannot make to Kathryn._

 Regina Mills was not a fan of Facebook, but it had become a necessity in business (marketing) and personally (information). She rarely posted any status updates on her personal wall, but did enjoy keeping up with far-flung friends and town news, as well as Henry’s school and, now, his dance studio, which had an active presence.

 “Great! See you next week?” Sue asked, gently guiding her daughter by the shoulder through the crowded hallway toward the door.

 “Yes, see you then.” Regina and Henry turned to follow them.

 “Thanks Miss Emma!” Regina looked up and saw her new friend pass and thank Henry’s teacher, who once again was leaning on the door to the studio. The next class started to shuffle in.

 “My pleasure, Sue. Glad to have Lilah with us...Henry! My man!” Emma held her palm up once more for a high-five. “Way to go, you did great today!” she smiled warmly. Regina couldn’t remember the last time she saw him smile so wide.

 Regina squinted. “Really?” she asked quietly, out of Henry’s earshot. In the earlier encounter, she didn’t get a great look at the teacher’s face, but now... _wow_. Make-up free, Miss Emma’s skin was fair and smooth, with high cheekbones and model-perfect teeth that lit up her face when on display. Unusually symmetrical and open, perfectly proportioned features sat on a pear-shaped face, sculpted eyebrows arching naturally over big green eyes and a refined nose.

 Miss Emma held her gaze, eyes broadening under the scrutiny. She nodded dumbly for a second, caught off guard by the brunette’s study. “Uh huh...I mean, no. Wait, _yes_...Yes... _yes_... really. He did well.” She sucked in a quick breath, flustered and slightly embarrassed about her sudden lack of poise. “I, uh….I’m sorry about, you know...earlier.” Miss Emma tipped her chin back toward where Regina had been sitting.

 “Oh…” Now it was Regina’s turn to get caught off guard, a small blush staining her cheeks. _I hope she doesn’t notice._ “No, no need to apologize...Thank you again. Say goodbye to Miss Emma, Henry.”

 “BYE, MISS EMMA!” came a shout from below.

 “Bye, dude, see you next week. And goodbye…” Emma looked to find Henry dragging his mother out the door. The blushing mother whose name she didn’t know, but wanted to. “...you.”

***

“Mom! It was so cool! I loved it! When can we go get my shoes? Tonight? Can we go tonight? Please? HITZ, Mom! Turn up HITZ!”

 Henry was a non-stop ball of energy after they left the studio. If the class had a secondary purpose of burning off the child’s excess energy, it failed spectacularly. Rather, it seemed to light him on fire. Regina couldn’t help but smile as they drove home — how could she dislike anything that made him this happy?

 “Henry, relax. No shoes tonight, we have to go home and have dinner. Maybe tomorrow night, OK?”

 Normally, she’d still be at the office and Henry would be with this sitter, but today’s events had her rethinking Wednesdays. Perhaps she’d make them a special day: Pick Henry up from kindergarten, grab a snack, then head to dance. In addition to extra time with Henry, she’d get to watch him dance every week. Along with another person.

 Regina’s thoughts meandered back to Miss Emma once more, like a pendulum pulled by horizontal force. Between work and Henry, she had little time for a social life, and when she did, there was no one who raised her radar in what seemed like forever. While Denwick and Islington sat 15 miles south of Boston, in one of the most gay-friendly states in the country, “most” still left a lot to be desired. Small towns could still run quite provincial, and even if either were named Gaytown, Regina would still prefer to be in the closet publicly, that’s just how she was. In private, only Kathryn, the in vitro doctor, and a few close friends knew. She assumed her colleagues in the office had suspicions, but wisely they left the question unasked. If asked, she certainly wouldn’t lie, but Regina had no plans to slap a rainbow sticker on her car.

 “Miss Emma showed us how to raise the root — look. LOOK!”

 Regina looked into the rearview and saw Henry pushing his arms, palms up, straight over his head.

 “It’s ‘roof,’ sweetheart. Raise the roof.”

 “Raise-tha-roof! Raise-tha-roof!”

 “Henry, quieter, please.”

 Regina looked again and saw he was slightly more in time. She could hear Kathryn’s voice in her head: _Those classes are already paying off. Glad I thought of them._

***

Emma shut off the sound system and lights to The Green Room, where she had been in residence for, what, 5 hours now. On top of her full-time 7-3, teaching made for long days, but she couldn’t help it, she loved it. Every time she thought about reducing her class load or quitting altogether, she remembered how much she enjoyed the kids, the recital, and the joy in seeing a child finally master a move they thought they couldn’t do. Growing up, dancing had been her refuge, her teachers a surrogate — hell, her only — family. She had always dreamed of following in their footsteps, and here she was. Plus, the extra money, though not significant, always helped, and dance days meant she could skip the gym and not feel guilty.

 “Hey, we goin’ out for a drink tonight?”

 Emma turned and spied Ruby Lucas strutting down the hallway barefoot, clad only in the shortest of booty shorts and a sports bra, as if she just walked out of her bedroom.

 Put some clothes on! There’s kids here!”

 “ _No_ ,” Ruby noted superiorly. “They’re all gone. My class was the last one, and I let them out the downstairs door. Unless you have someone up here.”

 “Nope, gone. But you _should_ put clothes on, Granny watches these, you know.” Emma gestured to the small surveillance cameras in the hallway and office.

 “What? Nothing she hasn’t seen before,” she smirked, bending over ass first toward a camera and smacking it for good measure. She straightened up and blew the camera a kiss. “Not an issue unless she plays your side of the fence, and she is my grandmother, so regardless, not a problem.”

 Ruby sauntered over to Emma with a leer and draped her arms around her neck. “Wait, am I making you uncomfortable? Are you hot and bothered?”

 Emma steeled herself, trying not to breathe in the intoxicating scent of perspiration mixed with, well, Ruby. It was sexy as hell, and she could feel the brunette’s breath on her ear. “Well?”

 The woman was as hot as fire poker, blazing orange with a heady mix of boldness and sexuality on display.  Emma wouldn’t deny being tempted, she never did, but they were best friends. Emma had long maintained that if she and Ruby were meant to be together, they would have been by now. She’d never been in love — she’d been in like and, certainly, in lust, but never love. Emma didn’t much know what that was supposed to feel like, but she figured she’d know it when she was. And when she looked at Ruby, the L word was lust.

 She didn’t want to ruin their friendship, as amazing as a fuck-a-thon with Ruby would be, no doubt. Plus, Ruby’s declaration as a try-sexual (“I’ll try anything!”) didn’t seem to be the best foundation for a long-term relationship, something Emma was hoping would find her, someday.

 Emma’s hands rested on the brunette’s waist, she swore the woman had gotten smaller, more firm, somehow, but for Ruby it would be a matter of mere degrees. A size zero, even her earlobes were toned. Taking one last inhale, she gently pushed away. “I am always hot and often bothered. Get your sweaty self off me.”

 “All right, all right.” Yet Ruby ducked in for a quick peck on Emma’s neck. “Sorry, I’m super horny right now…”

 “How were classes?” Emma asked, desperate to change the subject. She was only human and given it’d been two months since she got laid, her frustration was high and her resistance impossibly low thanks to Ruby’s charms.

 “Good.” Ruby headed for the “teacher’s lounge,” a tiny room off the office that housed their purses, bags, and a dorm fridge. She hopped into some yoga pants and grabbed a smoothie from the fridge, taking a lengthy pull. “Most of my girls are from last year, a couple of younger ones moved up. The Riley twins.”

 Emma nodded, they were good girls and good dancers. “Good for you.”

 “How about you?”

 “Was fun. Had Mini and Advanced back to back, which is always funny.”

 Ruby stopped mid sip and lowered the bottle. Emma could practically see the light bulb go on overhead. “Whoa. _Whoa-whoa-whoa_. Who was that hot brunette I saw in here earlier? Like 5 or so?”

  _That hot brunette_ , Emma mused. The description did not do that woman justice, at all. Although her body was covered by a raincoat, Emma would have bet her loft that why lie underneath was an 11 on a scale of 1 to 10. Those rich brown eyes sucked Emma in right away, only to be quickly drawn to plump crimson lips and even, white teeth. Her heart-shaped face ended on a strong, narrow chin, which made for killer cheekbones.

 “Oh,” Emma smiled. “I don’t know her name. Her son is Henry, super cute, in the Mini class.” Knowing kids’ names but not always the parents’ was an occupational hazard. “I did almost most land tits-first in her face, though.”

 Mid-sip, Ruby gasped, sending smoothie somewhere into her nasal cavity. She hacked and sputtered for a good 45 seconds trying to clear her airways. “Jesus!” She looked half-pissed, half-incredulous, which made Emma laugh out loud.

 “What the fuck did you do with your tits?”

 “I got tripped up in Lizzie Reilly, who was putting her shoes on in the middle of the hallway. I nearly landed in the woman’s lap, but I braced myself against the wall. She was, like, an inch or so away from being able to motorboat me.”

 “Was there any tit-touching?”

 “No..I wish.”

 “Well, next time, make sure you do it right!”

 Emma grabbed her hoodie and backpack with a sigh: “You know the rules…”

 Eugenia Lucas had three primary rules for her dance instructors:

  1. Keep the kids safe.
  2. Make sure the kids have fun.
  3. Don’t sleep with the parents.



Emma could hear the admonition clear as day — as it was often shot Ruby’s way: “No mother wants to send her child to dance at a studio where her husband may not come back!”

 Ruby snapped the smoothie bottle closed and stepped into her UGGs. “Seriously, I saw her in the parking lot. She is, like, me-hot.”

 “Yeah, that’s how I rate women: you-hot.”

 “Next time, try to fall pussy-first into her face. Really go for it!”

 Emma laughed loud and long, as she followed Ruby out the door and locked it behind her.

 Across town, newly minted hip hop dancer Henry Mills was fast asleep — no mean feat this day — while his mother lounged on the couch listening to a monologue from her best friend about some courthouse shenanigans: “And then I told the clerk that if he misplaces my filings _one_ more time, I’ll have his nuts in my briefcase. _Honestly_...wait, Henry’s class was today, right? How’d it go?”

 Regina smiled to herself, replaying him step-touching and “root-raising” all over the house after dinner. “He loved it,” she sighed.

 “I—”

 “—was right, _I know_. You were right. Let’s get your gloating out of the way.”

 “I’d prefer to save it for another day when I am less awesome. Anyway, tell me everything.”

 Regina did just that, omitting her up-close encounter with Miss Emma and subsequent observations.

 “Hold up, you made a friend?” She could hear the glee in Kathryn’s voice.

 Regina calmly restated herself. “I met a fellow mother. Her name is Sue. She seems very nice.”

 “Sue! You met a Sue? YES! You put your phone down! _You put your phone down and talked to someone._ Holy shit, I am so proud of you!”

 “What is that noise?”

 “I’m fist pumping my brilliance.”

 “Good Lord.”

  “He had nothing to do with it. I did! Yes! I. Am. Brilliant.”

 “And humble.”

 “Naturally. So, continuing...who’s the teacher?”

  _Damn her prosecutory attention to detail._ “A hip hop teacher, who else? Very enthusiastic, seemed wonderful with the children.”

 “What’s the name?”

 “Why?”

 “I’m curious. Why are you so secretive?”

 Regina swallowed and hoped it wasn’t picked up on other end of the line.

 “I’m not being secretive! Her name is Miss Emma.”

 “Oooohhhhh…. _Miss_ Em- _ma_. Alriiiight.”

 “They _all_ go by ‘Miss’ whatever their first name is. Why do I hear typing?” Regina’s heart accelerated. _Am I that transparent?_

 “I’m checking out who is teaching my godson...let’s see, Home...Faculty….WHOA. Uh, you did not mention she looked like that. God- _damn_.”

 Regina grabbed her iPad and opened up the browser, which was still on Step In Time’s site. She realized she never looked at the Faculty page. She quickly found Emma among the black and white headshots. The picture clearly professionally done, she smiled naturally for the camera, her hair pulled into an intricate side braid. Emma _Swan_.

 “Whoa, look at this one!”

 “Wait, where are you?”

 “Photos section. Under Studio Life.”

 The page held a variety of candids of children and teachers in rehearsal, several of which featured Miss Emma. Some serious. Some laughing. In one she leapt high off the ground with her students in sync, legs out and wide like a frog, face serious and determined. She wore what Regina guessed was her standard tank top, plus baggy shorts, and boots. A flannel shirt tied around her waist billowed outward, it’s movement indicating the leap was powerful. In another, she was showing a dancer how to do a handstand, in which Emma balanced and held her body parallel to the ground, off the ground, arms defined in effort.

 “Holy shit, look at her arms!” Kathryn squealed.

 “I’ve seen them, they’re...impressive.”

 “I want to come with you next week.”

 “Absolutely not. You’re in court.”

 “You don’t know that!”

 “It’s a good guess.” Regina brought the glass of red to her mouth. “Plus, you’ll be busy castrating the clerk.”

 “You’re worried. You’re worried I’ll look like your smokin’ trophy wife and that will scare off Miss Hot Body.”

 “Hardly. I doubt Miss Hot Bo— I mean, Miss Emma, is interested in dating a parent of her student. Plus, I don’t know if she’s gay, and she doesn’t know I’m gay.”

 “She’s super gay, look at her! She—”

 “—I’m cutting off whatever inadvertently offensive statement you’ve got ready to go. I don’t know why you persist in thinking lesbians want to date every woman they see. Stop perpetuating that awful stereotype. You don’t want to sleep with every man you see. You have male friends. And I have female friends.”

 “Two — you have me and your new pal, Sue. You don’t want to sleep with Sue do you?” She paused dramatically and gasped: “Homewrecker!” Kathryn cracked herself up so hard, she snorted.

 “Charming.”

 “It’s just…” Kathryn began, but couldn’t continue because she was still giggling. “...it’s just you give off a heavy vibe when you’re interested. I’ve seen it, it’s impressive. You get that smoky laser stare going and look like you’re starving and your lady target is a Thanksgiving dinner.”

 “How do you put these terrible analogies together?” Regina took another sip. _I may need the whole bottle to get through this conversation. At least it’s over the phone._ She couldn’t imagine the horror of having it in person, Kathryn would be onto her in 10 seconds.

 “I’m _not_ wrong,” Kathryn maintained firmly. Regina could hear the smile in her voice.

 The problem was, Kathryn was right — she _did_ want to get to know Miss Emma Swan.

 

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it was *so* wonderful to see familiar names in the Comments! Thank you for the warm welcome back! It's a huge help to hear what you think, so please keep it up. Much appreciated!

September quickly slid into October, then November, as the fall tends to do for parents. Before she knew it, Regina Mills found herself fast-forwarded through the holidays and into the new year, armed with a new appreciation for the art of hip hop and, especially, a certain dance instructor.

Her plan to leave early Wednesday afternoons was working wonderfully. Henry loved the extra weekday time with his mother, but not more than she did. That was impossible. Every Wednesday, she picked the boy up from school and took him to a bakery near the studio. She sipped a coffee while Henry was rewarded with his now-ritual pre-dance milk and cookie. She sat, every week, marveling at the little boy who was growing up far too fast for her liking. He shared stories from kindergarten, thoughts about his teacher, and whatever else was on his expanding mind. Regina simply sat, sipped, and smiled. Work, she discovered, could wait. So it did.

After coffee, the pair got to the busy studio early to get a decent parking spot, get Henry changed into his dance clothes, and ensure Regina got her favorite seat across from the observation window. The latter need was, of course, known only to Regina. She couldn’t — she wouldn’t — deny it to herself: She was attracted to Miss Emma.

Regina Mills was no-nonsense; she simply didn’t understand why people didn’t just say what they mean. When she wanted something, she went for it, be it a new client, project, purchase, or person. The approach rarely failed her in the past, but here she couldn’t even pass Go. Henry had never been a factor in her previous relationships, due to the fact she didn’t have them. Occasional hookups were found at one of Boston’s upscale gay bars — mutually beneficial, and never, ever at her house. The fact was: Henry had never known another woman in his mother’s life. If that ever came to pass, and Regina seemed to doubt that more every passing year, it would be for keeps. And, to further frustrate, the woman was Henry’s dance teacher; certainly she couldn’t land in bed with any of the authority figures in her son’s life, no matter how attractive. Which left Regina Mills sitting on a metal folding chair once a week, content as much as the situation would allow. Which was, truly, not much at all.

While The Mills religiously followed a weekly schedule at the studio, Emma did, too. She made it a habit to enter through the backdoor, which ensured she would have to pass Henry and his mother on the way to the Mini class.

“Hi, Henry!” she smiled, then turned her grin one seat left, slowing her pace — hopefully not too noticeably — so she could get a good look at the brunette. “Good afternoon, Ms. Mills.”

“Miss Emma,” Regina smiled back politely, willing her eyes not to drop south. Today Emma was wearing black capri tights and a snug electric blue tank top. Her soft, blonde hair was pulled back into a loose French braid that seemed to make her face more expressive — eyes shone brighter, her smile bigger.

“You look like Elsa, Miss Emma!” Henry noted gleefully.

“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” she said. “I’ll take it.” Emma reached out and clapped the boy on the shoulder. “Isn’t Henry doing great?” He’s killing it!” She knew Regina sat in the same seat every week, watching her son...and his teacher. At 30, Emma had been around the block before. She knew when women were interested in her, and this one definitely was. She could feel those brown eyes following her every time they were in the same room. Emma thought about it often, and if she couldn’t do shit about it, she’d have fun being ogled by the hottest women she had ever seen.

“I’m very proud. He’s working very hard.” Regina’s voice softened from polite and crisp into rounded and soft at the mention of her son. “I love watching him dance.”

“Well, you’ve got the best seat in the house.” Emma winked, her lips turning up in an impish grin when she caught Regina’s eyes on her chest. “C’mon, my man. You ready?”

“Yeah!” Henry jumped up so fast, the chair nearly tipped over, thankfully pulling attention away from the pink staining Regina’s cheeks. _I need to get to Boston,_ she thought, suddenly warm and aroused on a cold metal seat.

“Hey, Henry. Hey, Miss Emma!” Sue Walker greeted the pair with a smile as she passed them on her way to Regina. She claimed Henry’s former chair with a smile. “What’s up?” Regina enjoyed Sue’s company every week, where she was filled in on the latest town and studio gossip.

“Not much…” Regina began, interrupted by the shrill ring of her cell. _I need to change that_. “Regina Mills…” She hopped up, giving her friend an apologetic look as she headed for the privacy of the porch, which quickly, regrettably, turned into a trip to her car and back to work. Teeth clenched and eyes narrow, she storming into the office, angry to be missing her visual vacation.

“I’m sorry, but we just got the final draft with the revisions, and you’re due at the courthouse at 9 tomorrow,” her assistant Richard soothed. “You won’t have time to check everything before then unless you’re in here by 7, and I know you have to get Henry to school, and—”

“Richard, I know my schedule,” she spat, regretting it immediately. Meticulous, efficient, and kind, Richard had been with her since she and Kathryn started the firm. He was able to run the paralegals, a busy law office, and — somehow — effortlessly weather the unique personalities of both women — no mean feat. “I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I’m just...I don’t like missing his class.”

“I know,” he replied softly, then glanced at the clock. “If you leave now, you can catch the end of it. Just review this tonight,” he instructed, handing her a bulging folder. “If you need anything fixed, I can come in early.” He gently turned her toward the door and pushed, “Go.”

A sincere “thank you” wafted over her quickly retreating figure as she walked out the door. _I’ll do something nice for him tomorrow_ , she promised herself. Richard’s plan was perfect, until Regina felt the Mercedes start to shudder violently about 4 miles away from the studio. A flat. Pissed off and petrified that she wouldn’t make it to pick up her son in time, she immediately dialed AAA, then the studio. Regina breathlessly explained the situation to Eugenia, who wondered if the woman would hyperventilate before she finished.

“Ms. Mills, Ms. Mills, _relax_ ,” she urged. “It’s OK. Believe it or not, this has happened before more than a few times. I’ll tell Henry you’re on your way. He can hang out in Miss Emma’s next class until you arrive. He’ll be fine. We’re here until 9:30 tonight, so unless you’re on your way to jail, it’s all good.”

Regina nodded dumbly at the phone. “Oh...I...thank you.”

The wrecker came and fixed Regina’s flat within an hour, allowing her to speed back to the studio and restrain herself from bounding up the steps and bursting through the door. She calmly walked in and was cut off before she could greet Eugenia.

“He’s having the time of his life in the advanced class. Come see,” she urged, waving her into the office. Regina walked in unsure and was surprised to find a bank of six small monitors — one for each rehearsal room, and one for the entrance, backdoor, and hallway.

“We use them for security and liability,” the older woman explained. “Top right.”

Regina’s eyes followed the direction and she saw a live feed into The Green Room, where Emma was putting a group of teenagers through intricate hip hop combinations. Henry was sitting off to the side, smiling and bobbing his head.

“She’s teaching them their recital routine,” Eugenia noted. She turned a dial, flipped a switch, and suddenly Regina could hear the audio from the room emanating from a small speaker.

“Alright ladies, here we go. Full out, no marking! A- five, six, seven, eight…” Emma hit the music and the class erupted in sync. Arms and legs were thrown in precise angles, hard and fast to the thumping beat. When the class landed a jump or stomped in unison, Regina could feel the floor shake. Standing in front of the mirror, Emma appraised the dancers as they ran the number, as serious as Regina had ever seen her. After a series of beats, she hollered, “Don’t forget pop-pop-into-Superman!” turned around, and joined in. Regina had seen Emma dance with the Minis, but those were beginner moves with 5-year-olds. Here, she was clearly in her element, fierce and full-out with advanced dancers.

When the number ended, she turned to Henry, palms up, as the teens sucked in air or braced themselves on their thighs.

“What do you think?”

“The big girls did great!” he clapped, causing a cascade of happy squeals from the older girls.

“What about me?” she laughed.

“You were awesome!”

Regina laughed out loud, she couldn’t help it. Henry’s enthusiasm was infectious and Emma was, indeed, an awesome sight to behold, aggressively making her way through an intricate combination, out-dancing girls 15 years younger.

Emma mussed his hair on the way to grab her water bottle. “Class dismissed. Practice at home!” She high-fived the girls as they filed out, leaning on the door to grab some cool air from the hallway. Toweling off her face, she looked up quickly when a loud, “Mom!” sounded behind her.

Henry bolted into the doorway to hug his mother, who was smiling wide. “I’m sorry I’m late, sweetheart, I had to go back to work and I got a flat tire on the way back.”

“That’s OK, I stayed with Miss Emma and the big girls.”

“He was an excellent assistant,” Emma grinned. “I’ll keep him anytime.”

“I am sorry. I thought my partner would be able to come by and pick him up earlier, but she was in court.”

Before she could stop herself, Emma’s brows lifted just enough to be noticed. “My law partner,” Regina clarified quickly. “I’m a lawyer.”

“Oh, good...uh, I mean, no problem. He was great and the girls love him. It was no inconvenience, I hope you didn’t worry too much.” Emma tried to hide her face by taking another pull off her water bottle. _Shut up, dummy!_

The women looked away, desperate to stop tipping their hands and turning red. Henry’s timing was perfect, as he walked up in his coat and boots.

“OK, sweetheart, let’s go home.”

“Thanks Miss Emma! I had fun with you and the big girls.”

“We had fun with you, too. Good night Ms. Mills.”

Regina stopped before she hit the door, turned around, and offered her hand. “I’m Regina.”

Emma took note of the elegant hand sporting crimson nails as she clasped it with her own. She squeezed gently. “A pleasure, Regina. See you soon”

  
**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

The following day, Emma was changing in the “teacher’s lounge” when she heard Eugenia announce: “Emma, you have a delivery.”

Walking into the office, she found Granny eyeing a basket of flower-shaped fruit and chocolate-covered strawberries, and holding a sealed small card in her hand.

“You can have this,” she waved the envelope, “if I get a strawberry.”

Emma grinned. “ _That_ is blackmail, old lady.”

“But it still works. What’s your decision?”

“Take two, you crone,” she chuckled. “Might as well have some excitement in your senior years.”

Granny handed over the card and gently whacked a laughing Emma on the arm as she brought the basket into the connected room and placed it on top of the dorm fridge. Pulling out a pineapple flower, she took a bite as she opened the envelope.

**Thank you again for yesterday — Regina.**

Somehow, the fruit suddenly tasted sweeter.

She had little time to enjoy her bounty before Ruby bounded in barking, “Whaaaaat is this deliciousness?”

“A gift.”

“From who?”

“A parent.”

 “ _Some_ parent...who?”

“That’s privileged information.”

“Fuck that,” Ruby hung up her coat and pulled off her shirt in one seemingly fluid move. “I’ll bribe Granny. She loves dirt.”

“Regina Mills.”

 “Who?”

Emma sighed, pulling up her capris. This was going to hurt. “The hot brunette.”

Parents just turning into the parking lot probably heard Ruby’s hoots. “YAAAAAAAASSSSSS! Wait, why?”

“She had a flat and her son stayed to hang out in the next class until she got here. I didn’t do anything special,” Emma noted quickly. “She didn’t have to do this. I didn’t _do_ anything”

“Hey, don’t get defensive,” she soothed, noting she hit a tender spot. “But you want to, don’t you?”

“I can’t.”

“But you want to.”

Emma cocked her head to the side, lips pursed. “Of course. Have you seen her? I would like to get to know her. _But I can’t._ ” She winced, that was dangerously close to a whine.

“Hey, I didn’t meant to pour salt in the wound.” Ruby approached and pulled the blonde into a side hug. “You know what you know need?”

“Don’t say ‘get laid.’”

 “You need to get laid.”

Emma chuckled and shook her head. “I do, but what I need is to get laid by a nice woman who I like to spend time with. And I haven’t found one in a long, long time.”

“You should go into town and _get down_.”

“I’m too tired,” she sighed, stepping out from behind the curtain, into the hallway.

Ruby took a chocolate-covered strawberry and bit into it seductively, lips gently suckling the juice. She swallowed a bite. “Regina’s got good taste.”

One town over, the Islington law office of Midas & Mills was wrapping up for the day. The partners sat in Regina’s office, Kathryn’s shiny black heels resting on her friend’s mahogany desk as she summarized the day in court: “I kicked ass.”

“Good for you.”

“You bet it’s good for me — and you.” She sipped her Diet Coke and smiled at herself. “Whom did Boston Magazine name as one of the Top 5 defense lawyers again? Hmmm?”

Regina twirled a pen in between her fingers as she reviewed a ridiculously complicated, absurdly long, real estate contract. “Ted McDonough,” she noted, without looking up.

“True, but he‘s an asshole. Who was the only one in the Top 5 with a uterus?”

“You, I think...but I don’t recall Boston Magazine mentioning your uterus.”

“Regina…” Richard strode into the room with a stack of mail. “I—”

“Richard, you look great today! Well done!” Kathryn enthused. The man looked down, unsure of what prompted the comment. He was wearing what he pretty much always wore: black dress shoes, black trousers, a light grey Oxford and a blue tie featuring a small diamond pattern. He had just trimmed his beard, maybe that was it? He opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by his other boss, who was still nose-down in the contract: “Don’t mind her, she’s in one of _those_ moods,” she noted archly.

He nodded, not that she saw it. “I just wanted to tell you I received confirmation on that delivery.”

Kathryn looked at Regina fast enough to see her grimace, slightly. “Very good, thank you,” she replied. Richard spun on his heel and exited quickly, keen to distance himself from a merry, teasing Midas.

 The silence was deafening as Regina continued reading, waiting for the inevitable.

“What delivery?” Kathryn asked sweetly, slowly. 

Regina lifted her head carefully, removing her reading glasses and pinching the bridge of her nose. “One of those fruit arrangements.” 

“Lovely. To whom?”

 _Shit._ Regina prayed an asteroid would hit the building.

“To the dance studio.”

Kathryn frowned, it wasn’t the answer she expected. “The dance studio?”

“Because I was so late picking up Henry yesterday because _someone_ was in court and couldn’t help me.”

“In court _winning_ ,” Kathryn noted, holding up a finger for clarification.

“Whatever. I wanted to do something nice.”

 She watched the blonde return to her phone and breathed a sigh of relief. _Thank you, Jesus._ She was almost done with the last page of the contract when she heard Kathryn shift her legs off the desk and sit up straight: “Wait, to the dance studio or someone specific _at_ the dance studio?”

_I could lie. I could, but she would check the delivery info because she is Kathryn, and I will get a bigger landslide of shit for trying to hide that detail._

Regina looked up once more and met Kathryn’s eyes. “To Henry’s dance teacher.”

It took Kathryn a moment to register the significance of the statement, but once she did, her eyes lit up and blew wide.

“Miss Hot Body?”

“Yes, Emma Swan.”

 “Oooh, _Emma Swan_ , excuse _me_ Counselor.”

 Regina rubbed her forehead, “Anything else? I want to get this done so I can go home.”

Kathryn stood and rested a hip on Regina’s desk. Kathryn’s tendency to mark her territory wherever she went and drape herself over Regina’s personal property never ceased to amaze. “Of course.” She leaned in and dropped her voice, “Are you making a move?”

“No,” she sighed.

“But you want to.”

“Of course, I want to. She’s beautiful and she seems kind.” Regina leaned back in her chair and braced an elbow on the desk, supporting her head. “She’s the first person to pique my interest in a long time. But I can’t. She’s Henry’s teacher, that doesn’t seem right.”

“Ugh, fuck right, I’d say.” She laughed. “Fuck Miss Right! Are you giving her that sexy tractor beam stare?”

 “If I am, I’m not trying to. I’m trying to resist her and act normal. I look at her and…” Regina spat out a frustrated grunt.

“Is that some sort of lesbian mating call? Wait, do you know she’s gay?”

“Not for sure, but I’d be shocked if she wasn’t. She pings hard. And I swear she looks at me not like a parent.”

“So, what are you going to do?” 

“Nothing.” Her shoulder slumped as her lips sagged at the corners. “I can’t _do_ anything. I only sent that basket today to be nice, honestly. I really did appreciate her help. Henry has so much fun there, it’s makes me so happy to see that.”

As a defense attorney, Kathryn was a body language expert; it was easy to tell Regina was not lying. She looked defeated and dejected. “You know what you need?”

“Oh, here we go…”

“Elsie’s!” Kathryn hopped off the desk and clapped her hands. “I’ll call Don!”

“Elsie’s” was shorthand for “Elsie’s Cabaret,” one of the more upscale gay bars in Boston’s Back Bay. While surprisingly the city didn’t have a lesbian-only bar, all the gay clubs had weekly “Ladies Nights,” where lady-loving ladies  — and their money — were welcome. Don was a close friend, and an Elsie’s regular, who happily played wingman (or Fairy Godmother, as he preferred) when Regina wanted a night out. It wasn’t often, but when she had an urge for an uncomplicated, mutually beneficial, no-strings evening, Kathryn took Henry for the night and Don accompanied her to Elsie’s. Going alone, that was too depressing. Yet Don played the part perfectly, lovely company and conversation until Regina found a likely partner. He was there to rescue her if she foul-hooked a whacko, and not offended when she found a date for the evening and no longer needed his assistance. A successful gay lawyer himself, he understood what she needed and helped her discreetly find it, like the Fairy Godmother he was.

“Not this week!” she yelled after Kathryn, who had already bolted out of the room and into her office, presumably to call Don.

***

It was shaping up to be a nice evening. Henry went to bed without a fuss, allowing Regina to retreat to a long, hot bath with a glass of wine and a book. Her definition of a bliss. Kathryn had called Don, who promised to call her to set up a date and catch up. _I could use a night at Elsie’s. It has been a while._ After drying and changing, she was sitting on the edge of her bed setting the alarm on her phone, when a text popped up with a buzz.

**Regina, this is Emma Swan, Henry’s dance teacher. I’m sorry to bother you, but thank you for the amazing basket you sent today. I had to protect it from the other teachers — and Granny — but I won. It wasn’t necessary at all, but much appreciated. - Emma**

Smiling automatically, Regina began typing her response:

_My pleasure, thank you again. Is Eugenia your grandmother?_

Regina got under the covers and turned out the light, her phone glowing bright in the pitch black room. She felt like a teenager as she waited for a reply. She didn’t have to wait long.

**Ha, ha, no. She is Ruby’s grandmother, Ruby teaches jazz and tap. But she’s kinda like a grandmother to me — Granny, not Ruby. Ruby has been my best friend since I was 12, when I came to town with my foster family.**

Regina winced, feeling a phantom pain for Emma. What she knew of the system from legal circles was bleak. Any child over 10 had a better chance of hitting the lottery than getting adopted.

_Is your foster family still in town?_

She realized she had no idea where “town” was for Emma.

**No, they gave me up when I was 14. I landed in a group home in Bennett. They let me school choice into Denwick so I could stay in the same school system, that’s where I had lived with the foster family.**

_Do you live in Bennett now?_

**Uh, I’m a little too old for the group home. :-) I did until I was 18, then I moved to Denwick. After college, I moved back to Bennett, I have a loft here.**

_That made sense,_ Regina thought. Bennett borders Denwick. And her interest was piqued with a mention of college.

_How did you become a dance teacher?_

Regina decided to veer off very personal matters and into potentially less-depressing waters. Emma explained how she grew up dancing at Step in Time, and assisted through college as she earned her physical therapy degree, officially joining the staff 10 years ago. Regina answered a series of questions about her job and the firm, which devolved in some ridiculous stories about Kathryn and many emoticons.

The pair texted back and forth for so long, Regina had to plug her phone into the charger on the nightstand, and when she did, she realized:

_It’s 12:30 a.m.! I am so sorry to keep you up!_

**No worries, I’ve had my fair share of late nights. When I’m extra mean to the patients tomorrow, I’ll tell them to call Midas & Mills.**

_Sure thing, I’ll make sure Kathryn answers._

**Good luck with that closing tomorrow. And thank you, you’re really easy to “text” to.**

_Same here. I’ll say a prayer for your patients. ;-)_

Regina placed her phone on the nightstand and snuggled under the covers. Her dreams that night were frequent, interesting, and blonde.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued thanks to Angie, who has beta'd this whole story and makes me smile with her notes. Want to make me smile? Leave a review and tell me what you like. It really helps me develop the story! You guys have great thoughts, ideas, and suggestions.

Regina relaxed in her office chair, head resting on her hand half-listening to a potential — and talkative — new client on the phone, when her cell buzzed. She glanced down and cocked her head when she saw the text.

 

1:25 p.m.

Emma Swan

**Hey, we still on for tonight?**

 

 _That,_ she mused, _I would have remembered._ Oh, how she wished they were. It had been two months since their late-night text-a-thon. Regina had picked up the phone half-a-dozen times, intent on starting Round 2, but every time she checked herself. _No, it wouldn’t be right._ Instead, they restricted their interactions to pre- and post-class polite smiles, small talk, and a sly wink and “Good to see you” from Emma as she passed by on the way to class.

Given the present opportunity, Regina could reply without guilt. _She texted me...in error....and she’s going out with someone tonight._ A pang of anxiety poked her at the latter realization, but she couldn’t let his opportunity pass.

“Brian, I apologize, but I have a,” she glanced at the grandfather wall clock, “1:30. I’m going to transfer you to my assistant, and he will set up an appointment for us to talk next steps in person.” Regina hit the Transfer button before the man could jump in: “Richard, I’m sending over Brian Barnes. Please book him next week, if he’s available.” Placing the handset back in the receiver, she studied the text as if there were more to divine. _There, now I can concentrate._

She tapped a pen against her lips, wondering how to respond. Straight-forward? Flirty? Joking? Bottom lip in between her teeth, she began pecking out her response.

 _If we were, I definitely would have remembered._ Flirty, it is.

At Conyers Rehabilitation Center one town over, Emma sat in the staff break room, finishing up patient paperwork that needed to go to the case manager before end of shift, eating lunch, and texting Ruby about the evening’s plans. She nearly choked on her turkey sandwich when she checked her phone. _Shit! Shit, shit, shit._

A chill washed over her as she realized what she had done. _Wrong R!_ She read Regina’s reply again with a pit in her stomach, then a third time. Wait, that wasn’t, **New phone, who dis?** Or, **What the hell are you talking about?** Or even a cool, **I think you have the wrong number.**

Regina’s reply could be interpreted a series of ways, and Emma really wanted to take it as, “So, when are _we_ going out?” and make a move. _But I can’t._

In the weeks since that intense texting session, Emma thought long and hard about the possibility. _I like her. And I could_ really _like her. But I love teaching._ This mental debate surfaced at least once a week, usually Wednesday nights, lying in bed, several hours after seeing the woman in the hallway. Teaching was a sure thing, the studio was like a second home, and Granny, Ruby, and the other teachers a family. She’d miss late nights, funny stories about annoying parents, the amazing kids (the assholes, she could easily forget), and much more. It was a certainty, and she couldn’t bring herself to gamble a sure thing that made her very happy on something that might not. _But it might,_ her brain supplied.

 **OMG, I’m so sorry, I texted the wrong R!** She hit the send arrow and waited, chest tight.

_Who’s the lucky R?_

Emma’s mouth opened slightly. Goddamn, that was definitely flirting,

**Ruby, my best friend.**

_Ah, I remember you mentioning her._

Emma smiled. _She remembered. She remembered that night._

**We’re going to hit Dewey’s. They have a DJ on Fridays. There’s a small dance floor, it’s fun.**

Emma closed her eyes and exhaled as she slowly typed out the next sentence. If she were saying this in person, she’d definitely stutter.

**Would you like to join us?**

_I had to_ , she justified. It’d be rude not to.

She felt her heart pick up speed as she stared at the screen, willing a reply, pulse thudding.

Regina’s teeth pinned her tongue as she concentrated. There it was: an opening, one she had been hoping and waiting for. She didn’t make the overture, and if Emma — who was Henry’s teacher — did, she must not consider it a problem. But, of course, the one night Regina had plans — long-delayed plans — was the one night she got kinda-sorta asked on a date by a woman she had been thinking about for months.

She and Don had plans to go to Elsie’s tonight, ones that had been postponed several times. She’d already had to cancel twice — once when Henry was sick and later when she came down with whatever he had. Then Don caught a case that demanded a lot of late nights, which pushed their adventure out further. She couldn’t cancel again. He was doing her a huge favor, and she thought the world of him. He was also a dear friend and a lot of fun, no matter the setting, and she was dying to catch up in person. _No,_ she sighed to herself. _I can’t cancel. But…._

**I never have plans, but of course I do tonight. Can I get a raincheck?**

Emma’s eyes were closed when she felt the buzz of the phone and looked at the screen as if were ticking. One eye peeked open cautiously, then the other.

Wow. Her heart raced and sank at the same time. That wasn’t a No, or a Yes, but rather Another Time. That spoke of promise and potential. Then, she remembered, she couldn’t allow any potential or promise. However, Regina could not know that, that decision was certainly not her fault.

**Absolutely. Enjoy your night.**

_You, too._

***

Regina was relaxed and confident as she strode up to Elsie’s Cabaret that cool March evening, a time of weather limbo in which Boston didn’t know if it was winter or spring — and, oftentimes, it was both in one day.

The club was located in the city’s tony, and very gay friendly, Back Bay. With its brownstones and leafy brick side streets, the historic neighborhood — and its businesses — were refined and quiet. Elsie’s was no exception. The metal and glass facade was sleek and spotless, much like its clientele. The club catered to a 30+ LGBT crowd, and a moneyed, upscale, ambitious one at that. If they spotted the anchor from the 6 o’clock news, an up-and-coming state rep, or the starting point guard for the Boston Celtics, patrons early on learned not to stare, or they were not allowed through the door at their next visit. Some guests were out, some were not, but all were afforded an implicit promise of discretion and privacy; it made for an incredibly loyal crowd. It was also surprisingly egalitarian; there was no membership list, velvet rope, or secret password. Anyone appropriately dressed and behaving, was welcomed. If you wanted a quick fuck in the handicapped stall, well, there were plenty of other places for that.

She nodded at the doorman in passing, checked her wool overcoat, then surveyed the room, finding Don on a banquette on the left side. It had become “their” spot, not the center of attention, but close enough to get to the bar without needing a sherpa and a good spot to check out patrons without being too obvious. He was sipping on a drink — a 7 and 7, no doubt — and checking his phone, unaware she entered. Her heart warmed at the sight of him, he had been a dear friend for a long time.

A dozen years older, her self-proclaimed Fairy Godfather didn’t look a day over 35. His salt and pepper hair was undercut on the sides, with just enough length on top for a short, stylish fade that swept to the left. An oval face sported fair skin that reddened whenever Kathryn urged him to grow a leather daddy goatee; Regina was convinced the woman’s teasing was what kept him perpetually clean-shaven. She lost track of how many times that sweet face had nodded, laughed, consoled, or counseled her on matters professional and personal. They had met at a bar association dinner about a year after Regina graduated law school. A flashy, loud attorney in a cheap suit was harassing her at the bar; Don stepped in with a smooth, “Honey, where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you!” and thanks to his 6’2” athletic build and broad chest, the hack disappeared in record time. The pair sat together for dinner and became close friends, as well as each other’s emergency beards whenever the situation called for one, which these days was thankfully rare.

Crossing the room, she caught his eye as he lifted his drink and was rewarded with a wide smile.

“Sweetheart, so good to see you.” Don stepped out from the booth to engulf her in a hug and buss her cheek. Even with 4-inch stilettos, the height difference between the two was comical. “I missed you.” Regina laid her head against his chest, close enough to get a whiff of his aftershave, which smelled like lemongrass, orange, and an anchoring spice she couldn’t place. He squeezed again. “Are you eating? You seem thinner than usual.” He closely surveyed his friend, who was sporting a sleeveless black sheath dress that ended just above her knee.

“I think those hipster glasses are affecting your eyesight,” she smirked, pointing at his black Warby Parkers.

“They are not hipster glasses.”

“Fine, millennial glasses.”

“That’s worse!”

Regina slid into the banquette still laughing and stopped in front of an extra dirty martini.

“I got you started,” he grinned.

“Did you come from work?” She nodded at his bespoke navy suit, then took a much-welcomed sip from the ice-cold glass. Don worked in a large firm in the financial district and lived in Milton, just outside the city, with his husband, Dave.

“It didn’t make sense to go home and come back in. I got some nifty bonus points for working late on a Friday night.”

“Please thank Dave again for letting me steal you,” Regina requested with a squeeze of his arm. She noticed the absence of his titanium wedding band. “No ring, huh?” she giggled.

“Uh, _hell_ no.” The last time Don wore his ring to Ladies Night, he and Regina were constantly mistaken for an adventurous married couple and propositioned by confident women in the most graphic, forward ways he’d ever heard. “I _still_ can’t look at Pearl’s leash without blushing. Speaking of, you need to bring Henry to visit his Punkles and Her Highness soon. We haven’t seen him since the new year, and that will not do.” Dave and Don adored Henry and declared themselves his Punkles: Professional Uncles, No Kids. As such, they indulged the boy almost as much as Pearl, the couple’s diva springer spaniel, and possibly the most spoiled creature on Earth.

“Only if you dial it back.” Not content to wait until she finished her drink, she grabbed the toothpick and pulled off a vodka-soaked olive off the spear with her teeth, relishing its salty, spicy taste. _Ahhh._ “For a good two weeks after he visits, it’s ‘Punkle Dave said this…’ and ‘Punkle Don did that...’ I can’t compete.”

“Well, I’ll agree to your terms now, but then we’ll just do what we want when you leave.”

“Traitor,” she chuckled. “What’s Dave up to tonight?”

“He’s on call, some other doc had an emergency. He’ll probably still make it home before me. I don’t suspect animals have wild Friday nights.” Taking a sip of his drink, he relaxed against the black leather. “So, anything special tonight?”

“No. No leashes,” she sniggered, lips quickly fading into straight lines. “But I could use some company.

“Then company you shall find,” he declared.

“See anyone promising?”

“A couple, I think, up your alley. Well...they’re all up your alley, but you know what I mean…”

“All I need is you, in female form.”

“Honey, I _am_ me in female form. You’ll find someone, I know it.”

Regina nodded and bit off a second olive.

“But, before I lose you to the luckiest lady in Boston tonight, how’s work? How’s Henry? Has Kathryn been officially diagnosed with Tourette’s yet?” Don knew better than to ask, “How are you?” as Regina would deflect and never quite answer. It was easier to take a roundabout approach with the subjects of importance in her life; he’d still get a good idea of how she was doing and an opportunity to indirectly impart some advice before the night was through.

Regina rolled her eyes. “Kathryn needs 30 days at McLean, I swear. You know that assault case she had…”

***

After Regina had enjoyed two martinis, filled Don in on the entirety of her life, and caught up on his, she decided it was time to hit the bar and see what there was to see. A couple of women had caught her eye across the room, they had potential; heading over to grab another drink usually gave an interested party the opportunity to come say hello in person. The club was filling up and the DJ had started a set a half-hour earlier — some Latin, some house, with smatterings of classic disco and pop. Couples were on the dance floor, the bar was open, and it was Friday night. Not a bad place to be.

Regina carefully weaved her way to the bar and leaned on it gently, waiting to get the bartender’s attention. It didn’t take long; it never did. “Extra dirty martini,” she smiled, placing a ten in the tip jar.

The largesse ensured her drink became a priority, and it was quickly delivered with a wink. Taking a small sip to ensure it didn’t spill over, she moved to the other end of the bar, where there was no bartender, fewer people, and more seats. She sipped and scanned the room as casually as she could, gasping when she locked eyes with a blonde smoothly grooving on the dance floor. With long blonde hair curling below her shoulders, a cornflower blue silk shirt, and black dress pants, she almost didn’t recognize Emma Swan. But she would know those hips anywhere.

Both pairs of eyes blew wide at spotting the other, Emma’s jaw dropping into the most dumbfound expression Regina had never seen. She laughed without thought and held up her glass in a toast. Emma, for her part, stopped dancing the moment she spotted Regina, standing stock still in a throng of still-dancing women. A redhead behind Emma stared daggers at Regina over the blonde’s shoulder. Regina saw Emma turn, say something to the redhead, and quickly speed off the floor to her side.

“What are you doing here?” / “You’re wearing makeup!” they exclaimed at the same time.

“Wait,” Emma sputtered, still so stunned she almost snorted, “ _that’s_ what you’re going with? Me wearing makeup?”

“Well, I’ve never seen you wear it, and you look amazing,” Regina blurted. She felt her cheeks grow hot; her brain had short-circuited, filter gone. But Emma did look good. A light foundation, some eyeliner, and mascara had made her natural beauty even more radiant than normal.

Emma couldn’t believe what she heard, but quickly caught her mental footing. “Why, thank you,” she smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Wearing full makeup while dancing for hours tends not to be a great look at the studio. What are you doing here?”

“This was my plan for tonight,” Regina answered matter-of-fact, still trying to process the turn of events. “What happened to Dewey’s?”

“Ruby came down with a bug. She sounded half dead a few hours ago.”

_“Those little fuckers gave me whatever is tearing through that germ factory,” she moaned over the phone. Illnesses were brutal at the studio, rampaging through like a tornado, taking down everything in their path. “Why don’t you go somewhere gay? Get your itch scratched?”_

_Emma thought to herself,_ I _am_ itchy. _She hadn’t hit a club in quite a while and headed to the Boston Rainbow Pages to find her destination. She wanted an older crowd, not overrun with college kids — a quiet place to have a drink and maybe find someone nice to talk to._

 _Sorting the results by price, she figured the two at the top were the best candidates for the company she desired. The Common was in the South End, but Ladies Night was Saturdays; Elsie’s Cabaret was running one tonight. She clicked around to check out photos of the place and read reviews. It sounded like just what she was looking for._ Elsie’s, it is.

“Sorry to hear that.” _But currently not sorry._ “What are you drinking? It’s on me.”

“Jameson Black.” Emma watched Regina walk to the bar, black dress hugging her ass just so. _Holy shit._ The woman always had a coat on whenever Emma saw her in the studio; what a crime to hide that body. She was petite and firm, yet had supple curves that practically made Emma’s hands ache in need. Her hair ended just above a shallow scoop neck, showcasing an elegant expanse of skin. She turned, caught Emma staring, and smiled, teeth and face gleaming. Emma felt like a dazed, wounded antelope on a scorching African plain who just spotted a lioness. _Fuck, I am so done._

She was still lost in her head, working out her cause of death, when Regina reappeared, a smile on her face and a drink in each hand: “Let’s sit.” She walked to an empty booth in the right rear corner, so remote it currently was appealing to no one. Emma trailed behind, content to watch that ass sway. At least she couldn’t be caught staring from this angle.

Emma scooted into the booth close, but not too close, to her new friend. “Cheers,” Regina offered, clinking their glasses lightly.

“How did you get these so fast?” The line at the bar was easily three deep in spots.

“I tip well early, tends to come in handy later.”

“Well done, you.” Emma sipped her drink, wondering if it was wise, given how being in this woman’s presence sober made her feel dizzy.

“I haven’t seen you here before.” Regina guffawed the minute the last word left her mouth. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. That sounds like such a line…” She gently wiped tears from the corner of her eyes trying not to smudge her makeup. “...but I really haven’t.”

Emma watched in amazement as a smile — a genuine, warm smile — took over Regina’s face. Her eyes were shining, lips curled playfully. It was incredible.

“I’ve never been here before. Wanted to try something new. How ’bout you?”

“Every few months.” Emma willed her jaw shut as she watched Regina delicately slide an olive off the toothpick with her even, white teeth.

“Not a fan of the scene back home?”

“There’s a scene?” Regina smirked. “Do tell. I’ve been missing it all this time.”

Emma chuckled. “Kidding, I wish there was. It’s still not easy to find a date outside of the usual places, you never know…” She let the thought hang in the air.

Regina dipped her head. “True.” Lifting her glass for courage, she continued. “Who’s the redhead?”

“Who?”

“From the dance floor.”

“Oh…” The woman faded into complete obscurity the millisecond she spotted Regina Mills. “No idea, really. Just met her on the floor.”

“I…” Emma looked away sheepishly. “...I gave her a fake name, anyway.”

“Really?” Regina drawled. “Why?”

“You never know if someone turns out to be a weirdo. Not that I go a lot, but I like to play it safe, just in case. Everyone’s information is out there these days, someone could find me in 10 seconds.”

“What name did you use?”

Emma looked away, a hint of red staining fair cheeks. _Why did I admit that?_ “Beth.”

“Nice to meet you, Beth.” Regina extended her hand. “I’m Sarah.”

“What?” she laughed, mortification suddenly evaporated. She shook Regina’s hand, which was warm and soft, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I do the same thing, at least at first. It’s easy to find me, too. And if you get a clinger…”

Emma nodded.

“Anyway, the redhead looked extraordinarily mad I took Beth away.”

“Well,” she tilted her head with more than a hint of bravado, “Beth did split about 2 seconds after she spotted Sarah. And Beth _is_ an amazing dancer. Can’t say I blame the poor girl. ”

“That is true.” Regina regretted the confession the moment it slipped from her lips. It was too much, too soon. What if she spooked her?

“Oh, really?” Emma pursed her lips and tried not to smile, a collective effect that made her look like the cat who ate the canary. “You’ve seen Beth dance, eh?” _We can play this game, sure…_

“A couple of times,” she began, with a playful, disinterested tone, “with 5-year-olds.”

Emma met, then held, her gaze: “She’s even better with bigger bodies.” _Game. On._

A chill raced through Regina’s chest. Emma’s eyes were narrow, yet her lips turned up smugly. The tables had turned.

“I can’t dance,” Regina demurred, suddenly on shaky ground. She no longer held serve, and it unnerved her.

“Uh…” Emma chuckled softly. “No way.” She slowly raked her eyes over any part of Regina’s body she could see and made sure the woman saw her do it. Regina felt heat rush to her face — and other parts of her anatomy. “I know bodies, I know dancing. You. Can. Dance. I can see it in you. You just need the right teacher.”

Emboldened, she rose, slid off her seat, and offered her hand. “C’mon. Time for class.”

Lips parted, Regina stared and went to stand, only to have her phone buzz. “Give me 5 minutes, please?” she asked apologetically.

“Sure.” Emma paused. “I’ll be right back.” Regina watched as Emma hurried toward the edge of the dance floor.

**Did you make a new friend?**

_Yes. I actually know her from town._ She decided to skip the details on how.

**Well, I’ll be. You good, then?**

_Yes. Thank you *so* much. My love to Dave. I’ll call you Sunday, we’ll set up a date to see Pearl, and maybe you two. ;-)_

**Do that. Be safe.**

_No worries. Love you._

**xo**

Regina stashed her phone in her purse and sat once more, watching Emma practically jog back to the table.

“Everything OK?” Emma held out her hand and smiled.

“Yes.” She took the offered hand and stood. “Emma, I don’t think—”

“C’mon, our set’s coming up. No time to waste!”

Emma guided Regina into a far corner of the dance floor, which provided a little more room and privacy. The serious action occurred in the middle of the floor or near the DJ; the club may have catered to a moneyed crowd, but a good drink and a good beat loosened nearly all bodies. A peppy, mid-tempo Latin dance track thundered out of the sound system.

“Alright, cha cha time.”

“What?” Regina looked as if Emma just handed her a parachute and opened a plane door 10,000 feet in the air.

“Modified cha cha. But, actually, we’re just gonna do what’s called a walking step. Just walk toward me, three steps to the beat.” Emma walked backward three steps in time, Regina looked like she was going to throw up on her Jimmy Choos.

“C’mon,” Emma cajoled, reaching out her right hand to take Regina’s left. “I swear you’ll have fun. Give me 15 minutes, if you’re not, we’ll head back to the booth and I’ll buy the next round.”

“The music is too fast,” she protested weakly. Her defenses were slipping. Emma was sporting some serious puppy dog eyes, the beat was thudding, and the happy music was almost at her feet.

Whenever she looked at Regina, Emma felt like she was in a pool and her toes just skirted the steep drop between the shallow and deep ends. But here, on the dance floor, she was on her home turf, confident and calm.

“No problem, we’ll go half time, slow it down. Let’s go, toward me. A- 5, 6, 7, 8…” Emma walked back again, gently pulling Regina with her. When they reached three steps, she reversed course toward Regina, maneuvering her back to where they started. Soon they were walking up three and back three to the beat, their joined hands pushing and pulling in time.

“Thaaaat’s it. Alright! You OK?”

A small grin appeared. “Yes. What type of music is this?”

“Cumbia.” Emma left out the part about its origins as a courtship dance. They couple danced back and forth, back and forth, becoming smoother with each pass.

“OK, good! Now…” Letting go of Regina’s left hand, Emma used her index finger to tilt her partner’s head up 45 degrees. “Hi, there.” She met those large brown eyes and unleashed a full, brilliant smile. “No more looking at your feet. You know what you’re doing, you won’t trip. I’ve got you. Plus…” she winked, “...the view’s better up here.”

Regina dipped her head bashfully. The resumed their dance, hands joined once more. “Forward, two, three, stop. Back, two, three, stop.” Emma realized she was smiling like an idiot. _Get a little chill,_ she begged herself, unsure if she’d be able to pull it off. “Now, instead of stopping, can you rock back on your last step?”

Emma danced backwards, alone, left-right-left, transitioning all that weight onto her left foot on the last step, before starting a three-step trip back on the next beat with her right. “It gives the move a little ‘tude, try it with me.” Holding hands once more, they began and soon found a solid rhythm.

Regina smiled to herself, forgetting how much she liked being led. She hadn’t danced in forever, and while she still had to think hard in order to move her feet correctly, the opportunity to relinquish control, even for a little while, was intoxicating — a relief. The direction, the style, the decisions weren’t up to her but, rather, the expert who had a practiced, smooth, and solid hold on her body.

“Now, put some sway in those hips, senorita. Watch me.” Emma traveled backwards, Regina following, but this time with Emma’s hips loosely swinging side to side to the sensual beat. Regina nearly gaped, she had never seen such fluid movement.

“Rock ’em, I know you can,” Emma teased lightly. She watched the brunette’s hips jerk stiffly. “Feel the music.”

And just when she said that, the music in question seamlessly transitioned from cumbia instrumental to the slower “Calle Ocho” by Pitbull. Normally Emma thought the guy was a one-trick pony, but right now he was her favorite person on the planet, present company excluded. The music and pace gave her an idea.

Regina’s eyes wandered south again, but at least they weren’t on her own feet, but rather Emma’s rolling hips. She was trying to sway to the beat, but couldn’t quite loosen enough up to match the pace. Then Emma stopped. Regina looked up guilty, as if she were suddenly in trouble.

Quite the opposite. “Stand still,” Emma whispered, walking three steps into Regina’s personal space, stopping about a foot away. Emma raised their joined hands straight up above Regina’s head, then slowly lowered her hands to Emma’s shoulders. Releasing Regina’s hands, she languidly ran her palms up the brunette’s bare arms, shocked sparks didn’t fly as she did. They continued their amazing journey, moving unhurried from Regina’s shoulders and down her sides, stopping at her trim hips. _Jesus, she’s tiny._

“There,” Emma husked, her throat suddenly very tight. She had to clear it to continue. “Now, _feel_ the music. A- 5, 6, 7, 8...”

The pair danced back and forth to the beat, Emma gently pushing Regina’s hips in time; they relaxed quickly under the splayed hands guiding her. Pitbull slid effortlessly into UB40’s cover of “(I Can’t Help) Falling In Love With You.” The pace dropped naturally, smooth and gentle. “Oh, my God, I love this song,” Emma grinned.

 As they rocked and swayed, Emma continued to guide her partner’s hips. And even though her grip was light, Regina felt every fingertip through her dress, as if they were on fire, exquisite pressure alighting all the nerve endings within reach.

“Nice!” Emma enthused. “How are you doing?” Tilting her head, she tried to meet Regina’s eyes. “You’re very quiet.”

Truth be told, Regina could barely function, between trying to follow Emma’s instructions and attempting not to spontaneously combust due to their close proximity. She was so close she could smell coconut and vanilla. _Was it bodywash? Shampoo?_ Entranced, her eyes refused to leave the cascade of blonde curls flowing past Emma’s shoulder blades. Regina’s hands were glued to rock-hard shoulders underneath smooth, soft silk. She was afraid to move them, lest she either bury them in that lush hair or engulf the woman in a hug. Restless, they wanted to roam and find out where else Emma was hard as a rock or soft as down. If she was this mesmerized just by touching the woman’s shoulders, Regina was certain laying hands anywhere below her the woman’s neck would surely give her a stroke.

“This is good,” Regina replied measuredly, lips pursed in concentration.

“Is it fun?”

“It’s getting there.”

“Just ‘getting there’?” Emma’s brow creased in faux despair. “Oh.” She tried like hell to pout but couldn’t even get close, causing Regina to chuckle. “Well, _I_ am having a great time. I’ll try harder for you, though.” Emma scooted closer, hands moving around low on Regina’s back. The women were so close now it made their precious dancing impossible without tripping each other. This left them swaying in time, bodies nearly entwined. The lack of space forced Regina’s hands off Emma’s shoulders and onto her lower back. They held onto each other, swaying, heads parallel as they looked over each other’s shoulder and swam in titillating sensation.

Emma wondered if she overplayed her hand as soon as UB40 turned into…. _oh, shit:_ R. Kelly’s “Ignition.” She didn’t want to look Regina in the eyes, fearing she’d see panic and quickly feel the woman untangle herself from Emma’s arms. But she had to, they were too close for it to be an accident, and they sure as shit weren’t doing any type of dance that needed formal instruction.

Emma swallowed and pulled back from Regina’s shoulder, catching her gaze. She was met with hooded brown eyes and parted lips.

“This better?” Emma croaked. _Jesus, real smooth, asshole._

Regina was still able-minded enough to process the fact that this position led ultimately to a very specific end to the evening. She could pull away now, citing heat or tiredness, and return to the booth for a drink with a lovely woman. No harm, no foul. Or, she could hang on for this ride, this woman, whom she had been watching and fantasizing about for months.

“Much,” she shuddered, a shaky breath escaping with the syllable. Unable to resist any further temptation, she committed, stepping fully into Emma’s hold, wedging Emma’s right thigh between her legs, as high as decorum allowed. A thunderbolt of arousal rocketed to Emma’s groin, and she thanked every god she could think of as the pair began to gently roll their hips in time, resting her foreheads against each other.

Neither woman spoke, it was unnecessary, their bodies speaking loudly and clearly for them. Instead, they concentrated on absorbing the mind-altering sensations their union was producing, radiating from the top of their heads to the tips of their toes. All they felt was the music and each other, Christ, did they feel each other. The crowd, the club, the music, it all faded away, hazy and low.

All their senses were consumed by each other. The sound of breathing. The smell of perfume. The feel of warmth beneath their fingers, and hard bodies moving under thin clothing. The ambient noise thrumming in their ears. Only one sense remained, hanging out in the air, unanswered, waiting patiently.

Emma spread her legs wider and bent a little more at her knees, changing their angle and increasing their collective friction, Regina’s delicious heat on her thigh. The circular roll of Emma’s hips, the friction, the heat, the darkness. It all conspired to get Regina as aroused as she could remember. Was it the thrill of the forbidden? Months of visual foreplay and mental fantasies? The sensations were making it hard to hold her head up, she yearned to bury it in the crook of Emma’s neck and run her tongue up corded muscle.

Emma’s throat was tight, and she could feel a charge in the air as Prince began moaning the first few measures of “Cream.” Even though they were moving slowly, her heart was beating so hard it felt like she was in a foot race. She lifted her right hand off Regina’s back and moved it behind her neck, burying fingers in thick, black hair. Regina answered with a sly smile and slowly turned around, backing up fully into Emma, who held her around the waist and began rolling their bodies together in a slow, steady pace. On instinct, Regina lifted her left arm and draped it up and behind her, resting it on Emma’s neck, her other hand resting on Emma’s arm around her waist. Luxuriating in the feel of Regina’s head against her cheek, the last thing Emma expected to hear was a teasing, “Uh oh,” from the woman in her arms.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered, so close Regina could feel lips move against her ear.

“Redhead.”

For the first time since they hit the dance floor, Emma looked somewhere else other than Regina. She saw the woman she danced with earlier trying to kill Regina with a menacing stare.

“She looks like she wants to kick my ass,” Regina snickered, squeezing the arm around her waist. “I didn’t know you two were a thing.”

“We’re not,” Emma replied thickly. She spun Regina around to wedge her in between her legs once more and grind. She cradled the back of Regina’s head and leaned in, holding her eyes. “I’m taken.”

Regina’s breath hitched as Emma leaned in and brought their lips together. The kiss was slow at first, tentative, but quickly skyrocketed in intensity as mouths opened and warm tongues met, stroking in time to the beat their hips were following. Their mouths separated, slowly, as if they moved too fast they’d wake up and each be in their own bedroom, alone. Regina held onto Emma’s lower lip for an extra few seconds with her teeth, then released it with a sly smile. The grin grew larger as she spotted Emma’s eyes, wide with surprise.

“Regina, can I be honest?” she asked tremulously, moving from a body roll to hip circles.

Brown eyes narrowed in concern.

Emma leaned in to whisper in the delicate shell of an ear: “I am going to have an orgasm in about 2 minutes if I stay here dancing with you, or in about 45 minutes holding you in my arms in a bed. Which do you prefer?”

Regina nearly came on the spot, a shudder rippling down her spine, so strong Emma could feel it beneath her fingers.

“The latter,” she breathed, finally nuzzling Emma’s neck, her tongue laving a spot under the blonde’s ear.

“Let’s get out of here,” Emma whimpered, untangling their bodies and taking Regina’s hand as they strided off the dance floor to their booth. Emma grabbed Regina’s coat to help her into it, then stopped.

“Wait.” She laid the coat back on the seat and gently held both of Regina’s hands, looking straight into her eyes. Regina sobered quickly, a rush of fear chilling her.

“If we’re going to do this…” Emma sighed, heavy. “You have to know one thing: It can’t go beyond tonight.” Her green eyes looked impossibly sad for someone about to get naked with an incredibly hot woman.

Regina opened her mouth to speak, but found a finger gently placed against her lips.

“Please let me finish. I think you are amazing. I haven’t been interested in someone for…forever,” she closed her eyes as if the words hurt. “But Granny has a rule that teachers cannot get involved with parents. I understand it, and it’s never been a problem...until now.”

She paused to suck in a deep breath as Regina continued to gaze at her with soft eyes. “I love teaching kids to dance. It’s not a money thing, it’s for love. And as tempted as I am to quit tomorrow and see where we could go, I don’t think I could do that. I don’t want to deceive you, I won’t. And if that means you don’t want to leave me with me, that’s…that’s OK.” Emma looked away for a second, Regina swore she could see a glint of moisture in her eyes.

Sure that Emma was finished, Regina spoke softly, slowly: “So, we would just have tonight?”

Emma nodded solemnly, her eyes cast toward the floor. _I can’t watch her say no._

She felt her hands squeezed gently and looked up. “Then let’s have tonight,” Regina whispered, a small smile on her face, eyes radiant. “I think you’re amazing, too, and I appreciate your honesty.”

“Really?” Emma smiled, relief flooding her chest.

“Yes, now, help me with my coat?” Regina commanded with a flirty smile and turned slightly backing her ass into Emma’s front.

“Yes, ma’am!"

 

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three important notes:
> 
> 1\. I didn't end the last chapter when I did just to be a tease. Promise. The last chapter was very intense from a writing perspective. I had to create a new setting (the club), OC (Don), and describe some sexy, hot dancing, which was super complicated, as I'm not a dancer. Writing dancing is almost as hard, for me, as writing a sex scene - what goes where, why, making sure I didn't break the rules of physics or give someone an extra hand, etc. Then I had to layer in all the sights, sounds, sensations, etc. So it took more time and brain power than normal. (Seriously, I watched a stupid amount of dance videos on YouTube.) Anyway, I had to end the chapter and reset my brain. Because I knew the next chapter would be just as demanding. ;-)
> 
> 2\. At the beginning of last chapter I asked for your feedback, noting it really helps me improve the story. And, sure enough, you guys were great. Especially a few commenters who questioned some key motivation. That sat with me (in a good way) and led to a lengthy addition to the chapter following this one. That chapter was already written and done, but when I thought about what they said, I added basically another half a chapter to it that I think much better rounds out the story. And those changes led to some fun stuff in Ch. 8. So, seriously, THANK YOU. Your thoughts are incredibly helpful and lead to better, and in this case longer, stories. Please keep it up. And please do that for *every* fic writer you enjoy. It's all we get.
> 
> 3\. This chapter is Explicit — capital E. If that is not your thing, skip this and meet me at Chapter 7.

While it wasn’t romantic, taking separate cars back to Emma’s loft was a necessity. Neither could leave her car at the club overnight, and at the rate they were going, they likely would have driven off the road at some point due to their inability to keep their hands off each other.

The ride was 25 minutes, a time during which Emma kept one eye on the road and the other glued to the Mercedes in the rear view mirror to ensure Regina didn’t lose her, or — her greatest fear — hang a hard right and bail.

Emma felt her chest relax as she pulled into her building’s parking lot, the black car still on her tail. She stopped and quickly hopped out, directing Regina to the visitor spot next to her’s. Leaning against her Jeep, she tried to project casual confidence, but inside she was running riot: half ecstatic about impending congress with the most gorgeous woman she had ever seen and half panicked that the time apart killed the mood.

Emma watched the door open. A sleek black stiletto hit the pavement, followed by another. Her eyes made their way up slim legs and a trim waist, over a generous, firm chest, and ended at an exquisite face bearing a shy smile.

“No problem following?”

“Not tailing that,” Regina smirked, nodding at the bright yellow Wrangler.

“See, and they told me yellow was just ostentatious.”

Regina took Emma’s offered palm and they walked hand in hand to the front door of the building, which opened via a magnetic card.

“This was…”

“A former elementary school,” Emma finished, leading her visitor to the main staircase. “I’m one floor up, second grade.”

They reached Emma’s door halfway down a wide hallway and entered, Emma tossing her keys in a bowl by the door. She stood behind Regina and helped her out of her coat, hanging it on a hook on the wall. Regina turned and smiled bashfully: “Hi.” Her voice was soft and small, not at all that of the woman who was grinding into her less than an hour earlier. Emma knew she needed to fix this — fast.

Stepping forward, she gently took Regina’s hands and kissed each one on the knuckles. “Would you like a drink?”

“No.”

“Bathroom?”

“No.”

She moved one step closer and draped her arms over the shorter woman’s shoulders. “Watch the Bruins game? They’re on the West Coast; we could catch the third period.”

Regina laughed softly. “I’m good.” But was she? She looked at Emma and her debate over whether this was a good idea after all intensified. She could simply leave with a kiss and a thank you.

“Wait, I know what you need.” Emma smiled softly and pulled Regina further into the room. She looked around, and for the first time appraised the space. The open floor plan featured a living room that led to a kitchen behind a half wall. On the left, there was a small dining area, a couple of book cases, and two doors, which she assumed led to the bathroom and a bedroom. A ladder on the far wall extended up to a loft that overlooked the apartment.

Regina was so busy looking around, trying to match Emma to the space, she didn’t notice she was being gently pulled into the blonde’s arms into some approximation of a formal dance pose: hands clasped and bent at the elbows, Emma’s arm on Regina’s waist, Regina’s on Emma’s shoulder. “Kick those toe killers off,” Emma requested gently. Regina did, instantly losing 3 inches to her dance partner. “Oh, God, you’re so cute, come here.”

“We dance well together,” she breathed into Regina’s ear. They really weren’t dancing as much as holding onto the each other rocking, but Regina wasn’t about to complain. “ _Emma, I can’t dance_ ,” Emma trilled in a high-pitched voice, mocking the brunette in her arms.

A loud laugh rang out as Regina playfully slapped Emma’s chest. “Stop.”

“ _I can’t, Emma! I have the most amazing body you’ve ever seen and I can’t move it,_ ” Emma giggled, resting her forehead on Regina’s shoulder, shaking with laughter. This was fun.

Regina beamed. “Stop, you.” Emma lifted her head and rested her forehead against Regina’s. “I think I proved that you were right,” Regina noted. “I just needed the right teacher.”

Emma moved in close until they were touching chest to groin. She let go of Regina’s hand for a second to tap her phone. The distinctive three-note wah wah guitar intro to “Let’s Get It On” slithered out of a wireless speaker.

“That you did.” Emma started swaying the pair to the beat, unhurried, all the time in the world.

“Miss Swan, is this your patented seduction playlist?” Emma felt a giggle ripple through Regina’s chest, followed by soft black hair finding rest on her shoulder. The weight felt comfortable, right.

“This is my Friday Seduction Playlist. Come back tomorrow, it’s Barry White Night.”

“Does that work on all the girls?”

Emma Eskimo kissed Regina, lips split in a grin. “Women, sweetheart. Women...And, yes, all three of them. I’ve got quite the streak.” She felt Regina loosen and melt into her. She began to gently roll their hips together, trying to spark another inferno. “I took the deli counter ticket holder out of the bedroom, though. It freaked out two of them.”

Regina tittered. “You’re very funny.”

“I like to laugh.” She lowered her head and whispered into the curve of Regina’s ear. “And kiss.” Regina’s lips not quite accessible with her head on Emma’s shoulder, the blonde’s tongue found her partner’s neck and licked and lightly sucked, hoping she’d get the hint. She quickly did, lifting her head, lips meeting Emma’s with purpose. Mouths opened quickly, tongues finding hot, wet, thrilling places to slowly explore.

Still attached by the mouth, Emma let go of Regina’s hands so she could pull her silk shirt out of her pants and move Regina’s hands to bare skin. She felt Regina moan, then pull away. “Take your shirt off.” The request was direct and low, fanning the rising heat in Emma’s groin. Wordlessly, Emma set a new record for unbuttoning, letting the shirt drop to the floor. She stood in front of Regina in a navy bra, defined abs on proud display.

“Something you wanted to see?” she teased, arms stretched out to her sides, palms up.

“Christ, yes.”

Regina reached out cautiously, maroon-tipped fingers hesitating just a second before splaying themselves across the taut six-pack. Her hands moved slowly up, out, and around, trying to feel soft skin over hard muscle all at once. “God,” she husked, dropping to her knees so she could lick a path up Emma’s torso.

Emma’s eyes nearly rolled back in her head, dizzy from the sensation and the visual of this stunning woman on her knees in front of her. Her clit ached in need.

“Regina…” she panted, “let’s get you somewhere comfortable for that...and promise me you’ll continue.” The brunette smiled up at the request, nipping the toned stomach playfully. Emma squeaked and held out her hand to help Regina up, then literally swept her off her feet and into the bedroom.

Sitting on the end of Emma’s bed, Regina took in the room. Landscape photos of woods and what she assumed was The Cape graced the walls, but the space was dominated by a king-size slatted sleigh bed. “This is quite the bed,” she noted, stroking a seafoam green down comforter.

“I like my space.” Emma smirked and went to unzip her pants.

“Wait! Let me.”

Emma stepped directly in front of Regina, legs shoulder width apart. Regina buttoned the smooth dress pants and slid them down muscular thighs, her hands trailing their way down strong, muscular legs, feeling all the skin they could. Leaning in, she nuzzled the blonde over her underwear, feeling a tiny rustle of hair under the fabric. She breathed in, embracing Emma’s arousal and heat, and licked a salty path just above her underwear, near a tiny swell of belly.

Breath shuddered out of Emma so jagged, it sounded painful. Anchoring her hands in Regina’s hair, Emma tried to maintain her balance as the woman laved her abs with her tongue, sucking here and there for good measure and running her hands around to her ass. Moaning in pleasure, Regina palmed and stroked as much flesh as she could reach, then lowered her fingers below Emma’s ass, lightly stroking her inner thighs.

“Regina…” Emma’s throat was so tight she could barely croak out a syllable. “Baby, I need to get on the bed.”

Stepping out of the pants puddle on the floor, Emma looked down on at the brunette. “I need to feel you,” she groaned, pulling Regina up to her feet. The brunette stood and glanced over her shoulder, casting a wicked smile as Emma unzipped her dress from behind. The air was hot and thick, practically humming with the sounds of soft, shallow breathing and a zipper giving way.

If Emma was dumbstruck by how Regina looked with clothes on, the sight of her in just a black lace bra and g string was going to make her to stroke out. Emma’s hands followed the path of the dress as it descended to the floor, rubbing creamy skin along the way. Once the dress had landed, Emma stepped in and pressed her entire body into Regina’s, kissing her neck. One hand reached around to tease stiff nipples still hidden by fabric, the other slid down, rubbing soft circles over her still-covered groin. Regina tipped her head back to give Emma as much room as possible, panting rhythmically through parted lips.

“As pretty as this is,” Emma began, unhooking the bra, “it has to go.” Regina nodded mutely, currently incapable of speech, the sensations rampaging her body deliciously overloading her synapses.

Lace removed, warm hands met hard peaks, pinching and tugging, lips still assaulting Regina’s neck from behind. Virtually unable to lay hands on Emma, Regina placed hers over the blonde’s as they continued their exquisite assault. “Harder,” she mewled. Emma increased the pressure and began to twist a nipple, then snaked her index finger into Regina’s panties. She slowly slipped in between slick folds, finding blazing heat and an abundance of arousal.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” she hissed into Regina’s ear, as the brunette’s hips bucked violently, seeking friction.

“I need you now,” she pleaded, untangling herself, pulling off her underwear, and turning to face her new lover. Shocked at the near whine in her voice, she had never been this wet, this hot, this needy. Emma simply stared at the vision before her: all soft curves, smooth skin, and reeking of sex. Emma worried if she moved too quickly, she’d come on the spot, she could practically feel her clit throbbing.

Regina crawled onto the bed, ass swaying, then rolled over spreading her legs, a thin strip of curls beckoning her in. “Fuck me,” she hissed, her flushed chest rising and falling rapidly.

A soft gasp escaped as Emma closed her eyes in concentration, willing off an early orgasm as a shiver ripped up her spine. She pulled her damp index finger to her mouth and sucked, relishing the taste, the scent, as she stared at the naked vision open on her bed. Confident she could move and not come on the spot like an overheated 16-year-old, she crawled on top of Regina and kissed her soundly, burying two fingers inside searing heat.

“Need more,” she gasped.

Emma complied, adding a third and curling them for good measure, stroking the front wall, searching for the right angle.

“Harder, pl—” she couldn’t even finish the syllable as Emma sped up, rocking into the petite body with all her force she could muster behind her fingers. The bed frame, though sturdy, began to creak. Emma sucked, tongued, and nibbled on Regina’s chest at a pace as furious as her fingers.

Emma continued to jackhammer Regina’s sex as the brunette cried, “Harder!” Problem was, Regina was so wet, Emma had a hard time finding friction, even with the tight grip wet, delicious muscle held on her fingers. She had an idea and slowed her thrusts, then pulled out.

“What are you doing?” Regina asked, breathing heavily.

Emma rolled over, left hand still tweaking a nipple, while hanging off the mattress and fishing around in her night table with her right. She soon turned with a devilish grin and a black harness dangling off one finger.

“You game?” she huffed, still trying to catch her breath.

Brown eyes narrowed in anticipation. “Yes.”

Emma quickly rolled off the bed, stepped into the harness and completed it with a substantial silicone dildo sporting a flared head. Returning, she poised it at Regina’s entrance and looked her in the eyes before pushing in.

“Go slow at first,” she whispered. “It’s been a while.”

Emma leaned down and kissed her slowly, softly, as she smoothly slid into Regina’s slick heat. The woman was so wet, Emma had little problem pushing in all the way. She began a slow, shallow pace, gradually elongating her strokes and speeding up a little.

“OK?”

“Mmmmm,” she smiled, eyes closed. “Harder...I’m good.”

Emma moved faster, more powerful, as Regina drew her knees up high, legs splayed wide, for maximum access. The blonde’s quads and thighs contracted, rock hard, as she started to thrust in earnest, huffing and moaning in exertion. On a hunch, she tried a little experiment.

“Take it, baby. Take it all,” she growled, only to be rewarded with Regina’s hips lifting up higher and harder to meet her, groans answering. “Huh, huh, huh,” soft rhythmic pants puffed out between lipstick-smeared lips.

“Oh, you like that?” Emma wanted to cringe listening to herself, it sounded so ridiculous. But the effect on Regina was like paint thinner on a fire. She answered with a moan that Emma assumed meant “yes.” “Shit, baby, I’m gonna fuck you All. Night. Long.” Teeth clenched in a rigid jaw, she punctuated the last three words with powerful, fast thrusts. A loud, strangled cry rose above the haze of heavy breathing. Regina looked up, flushed with exertion, and bore into green eyes, bucking wildly as she dug her fingers into her either side of Emma’s ass.

Emma moaned and pumped harder, breasts swinging wildly as she pounded away, body slick with sweat. Bodies slapped together, the smell of sex enveloping them, the air, and the bed. “I’m close,” Emma groaned, trying to hold off a tsunami of sensation seconds away.

“Come with me!” Regina demanded, eyes closed, chasing the peak.

The demand pushed Emma over the top with a long, guttural moan, still pumping furiously. Regina whimpered, bucking frantically, cries tumbling out sharp and powerful. Emma felt the orgasm hanging and knew they weren’t done, continuing to thrust away.

“More!”

“Too sensitive,” she whimpered. “Can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” she panted, pushing through.

Regina’s clit pulsed so hard it was almost painful. She wailed in pure ecstasy, overwhelmed, cries muffled in Emma’s shoulder in which she sunk her teeth.

“FUCK!” Emma erupted. She didn’t expect a love bite, the surprise enough to push her over the edge completely, pinpricks of light exploding against her eyelids. Her brain short circuited, forcing her to stop, legs splayed, every muscle in her body stretched taut as she rode out the powerful wave, stiff as a board. Still sheathed in Regina, she slowly lowered herself on top of her, as they tried to catch their breath. Regina reached up and smiled, blissful, boneless, and exhausted, cradling Emma’s cheek in her hand. Drunk on each other and still breathing heavily, they began to giggle, no words were necessary.

**TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

For a millisecond, Emma Swan was the happiest person in Massachusetts. She awoke on her side, eyes opening slowly, stretching lazy, languid. The musk of sex and perfume blanketed her senses, and she registered her state of undress and the cool stickiness covering her thighs. Eyes still closed, she grinned at the memory of the hottest woman she had ever seen who, lucky for her, could fuck like a champion all night. But her euphoria was short-lived. She didn’t even have to roll over to know she was alone; the cool stillness behind her and loose sheets giving away the tragic fact that her lover had left. The sunlight, which only a second ago was a warm caress, turned harsh and blinding in an instant. Squinting, Emma sat up and surveyed the empty room. The black dress, slowly lowered to the floor hours earlier, was missing. She sprung out of bed and into the living room. Stilettos, gone. Coat hook, empty. She stared at her wireless speaker and phone like they had betrayed her.

_Why didn’t I wake up? Fuck!_

Although thoroughly disappointed and angry with herself, she couldn’t help but grin. She couldn’t wake up because the pair had screwed for hours. The last time Emma looked at a clock it was almost 3 a.m. They would make love, then hold each other, easily talking about nothing and everything. They smiled and laughed in the low light, wandering hands teasing and playing, eventually winding each other up to start all over again.

But now that was over. _For good_ , a reminder that quickly turned the smirk of satisfaction into a scowl. Now angry, naked, cold, and sticky, Emma set off for the bathroom to shower. She was due at the studio in an hour.

It was only returning from a scalding shower that Emma noticed a folded note on the floor. She hissed as she reached for it, the love bite on her shoulder still sore and angry from the hot spray. She forgot it was there until it got hit by water, now it was throbbing. She assessed it critically in the mirror: a perfect rainbow of even teeth marks, surrounded by a darkening bruise. The skin broke in a couple of places, Emma coating it in bacitracin, just in case. Assuming the note fell off the nightstand, Emma quickly grabbed it, then hopped back into bed, rolling herself into her comforter as if she could recapture lying in Regina’s arms. She noticed a small lipstick stain on Regina’s pillow, and laid her head on it as she read neat, even script:

_Beth,_

_Thank you for an incredible evening, although thank you seems very insufficient. I will carry it with me forever. I understand and respect your reasons for not moving beyond tonight, but that doesn’t make it easier to abide. I will think of you every time I dance. — Sarah_

Emma’s chest ached with regret, arched teeth marks on her shoulder following suit.

One town over, Regina Mills strode through the door of Danielle’s diner, spying her son and her friend in a corner booth.

“MOM!” Henry squealed, a few heads turning.

Sadness temporarily relieved, she smiled and engulfed the boy in her arms, kissing him on the head as he knelt on the booth seat to better reach her. “Hi, sweetheart. Did you have fun with Auntie?”

“Yeah!”

"Auntie’s ribs are broken from Sir Kicks A Lot,” Kathryn quipped, lifting a mug to her mouth.

“She’s fibbing, Mom!” Henry smiled, Kathryn meeting his with a grin of her own. The boy could neutralize any acid quip or remark she launched; she was powerless.

“No, he’s right. Only one is slightly cracked.”

Regina scooted next to Kathryn, ensuring little ears didn’t overhear big conversations. It may have been moot, anyway, as the boy soon busied himself coloring the placemat.

Regina looked down to find a steaming mug of black coffee, which she gingerly lifted and drank. Exhaling slowly and setting the mug down, Kathryn’s brows were nearly on the ceiling:

“Hungover or tired?”

“Very tired.”

“I see,” she purred. “Do tell.”

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“It’s not the kissing I want to hear about.”

Regina’s face broke out in a naughty grin, mind already racing with vivid images of the night before and pulling her lips wide.

Kathryn cackled. “Oh, my God. What happened?”

“I had a lovely night.” Kathryn couldn’t believe the sea change in her friend. Less than 24 hours ago she was tightly coiled, eyes hard and darting, now she looked light, carefree, and relaxed, all hard edges blended, softened.

“That is not a ‘lovely’ smile. That is a…” she lowered her voice and leaned close to her friend, “ridden hard and put away wet smile.”

Regina chuckled, “Accurate.” The snicker turned into a sharp laugh as she eyed her friend, whose mouth hung open.

“You just, like, giggled! Who was this woman?”

“Someone I met.”

“Some someone. Dish.”

“No,” she smiled gently. “But I will say it was amazing and wonderful, and I really appreciate you taking…” She cocked her head at Henry, lest he perk up at the mention of his name. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Kathryn reached over and quickly squeezed Regina’s hand. “You’re welcome...but the least you could do is give me a little info about what you actually did.” She craned her neck behind her friend.

“What?”

“Looking for evidence,” she smirked, appraising Regina’s neck.

“Oh…” The brunette casually unfolded the napkin from her place setting and set it on her lap. “That’s elsewhere.” Boy, was it. Regina found a series of hickeys on and around her chest while showering. Emma had spent serious time worshipping Regina’s breasts, but she didn’t realize how much until the stark light of her own bathroom on a Saturday morning.

“Regina Mills, you hussy!” she whispered, feigning shock. “When are you going to see her again?” Kathryn was grateful she kept her eyes on her friend, as she wouldn’t believe the change otherwise; it was like a cloud quickly slid over the sun; she could have sworn Regina twitched.

“I’m not, this was a one-time thing.”

“Why?” Kathryn practically whined, as if she were the one deprived of a repeat experience.

“She has her reasons. I knew them upfront.”

“Is she married? Straight?”

A long sigh eased its way out of the brunette’s chest. She took another sip of coffee and composed herself, she could feel the void already —  _which was asinine_ , she told herself. They just met. _How can I miss what I never really had?_ From the time she quietly shut Emma’s apartment door behind her to the second she stepped into the diner; Regina pep-talked herself into framing this situation as a gain, not a loss. _It was incredible. Don’t be sad it happened, be happy it happened at all._ _Christ, I’m talking in bumper stickers._ She refused to let the night be viewed sadly. She grinned to herself, remembering the feel of Emma in her arms, or herself in Emma’s. All soft skin and lean muscle. The talked so easily. Laughed so simply. Loved so intensely. The image of bright green eyes flooded her head, staring up intently as she sucked on her breast and tongued a nipple. It was so—

“Vegetarian omelet?”

Regina snapped out of her reverie, their waitress arriving with their food.

“Pancakes!” Henry smiled. Given she was closest to the boy, Kathryn took over pancake-cutting duties. “I ordered your usual —  _you’re welcome._ ” Kathryn ensured Henry stopped pouring syrup when Regina said “Stop,” before fixing her friend with a leer.

“Uh, where did you go? Because it was not here with me. And you were definitely not wearing clothes.”

“Shut up,” she smiled. “Eat your breakfast.”

***

“Yikes, what crawled up your ass and died?” Ruby’s nose wrinkled as she appraised a sneering Emma Swan. The blonde blew into the teacher’s lounge as welcome as an ill wind, hair on top of her head in a messy knot, aviators still covering angry eyes. She whipped off a CAPE COD-emblazoned hoodie, one issued to seemingly every Massachusetts resident, and chucked it in the corner.

“Nothing — other than there’s no fucking parking spaces and people drive like fucking idiots in this lot!”

This was not news, parking on Saturdays blew and the parents sucked at it anyway, even on days when there was an abundance of open spots.

“Whoa. You just stay over there sunshine. Ima go warn your students.”

“Jam it, OK?”

Ruby debated whether to reply and decided, in this case, retreat was the better part of valor. “Alright, if you need anything,” she said softly walking by and out the doorway, “let me know.”

“Ruby, wait.” She gently grabbed the brunette’s arm and pulled her back into the privacy of the space. “I’m sorry, long night.” Index fingers rubbed eye sockets, then scrubbed her face with her palms.

“OK. If you want to talk, you know where I’ll be.”

Four hours of dance instruction ended up being good medicine for Emma. She kept her regulator tight, ensuring she didn’t take her foul mood out on her students, while moving and sweating out as much of her emotions as possible. The angry, jagged, forceful moves of hip-hop perfectly partnered with her state today. Stomps were louder. Arms crisper and harder. Kicks higher and more forceful.

She ran into Ruby as she toweled off and finished a smoothie. “Better?”

Emma nodded. “Getting there.”

“What happened?”

“Late night with a lady.”

Brown eyes narrowed. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Was, ’til I woke up alone.”

“I thought you liked that.” Now she was legitimately confused. As far as she knew, Emma Swan didn’t do sleepovers.

“Not this one.”

_Broken heart?_ This was a side of Emma she'd never seen before. “Who would leave a warm bed with you?”

The tiniest of grins appeared. “I know, right?”

“Grab a drink tonight?”

Emma retrieved her sweatshirt from its timeout in the corner and pulled it on. “Yeah. Call me when you’re out.”

That evening, Emma rolled into her bed, not fall-down drunk, but over the legal limit for sure. Ruby drove, allowing her friend to drown her sorrows without revealing the whole story. As far as Ruby knew, Sarah slipped out before the dawn, with no way to reach her. It may as well have been true, anyway.

She staggered slightly as she removed her clothes and sat on the bed, which sported fresh sheets, save for the lipstick-stained pillowcase she couldn’t bear to wash. Emma gently removed her bra, her shoulder bite still protesting if it caught the right angle. Putting her T back on, she slid into under the covers, head on what she already termed “Regina’s pillow.” The cloth still shared her perfume, and Emma hoped her bar-smelling hair didn’t wipe the scent out completely. Reaching for her phone, she pulled up her contacts and stared, sadly, at M. Careful — _careful, careful_ — not to hit the phone icon, she cautiously edited the contact, as if one wrong tap would set off a nuke over Syria: “Regina” became “Sarah”, no last name. There. Regina Mills was gone from her life, but Sarah? She could stay. She closed her eyes and sighed. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t what she really wanted, but it would do.

*** 

For a woman who spent the entire night in a fitful sleep reliving the most amazing sexual experience she’d never be able to duplicate, Emma Swan woke up surprisingly calm. Determined. Even hopeful. Because she figured out how she could be with Regina Mills.

Hope was a tricky and fleeting concept in her life. After too many times holding it out and watching it evaporate painfully from her grasp, Emma had all but banished the emotion from her soul. She learned to hope for things that were surface-important. To pass her boards. To get that great job. For her classes to do well in recital. To get decent U2 tickets at The Garden. But nothing that could touch her already-scarred soul, one, for instance, that survived those awful, awkward, get-to-know-you parties with prospective adoptive parents. The ones in which she would smile at couples, heart rate rising as they smiled back, only to watch them walk right by her, to a younger child — over and over again, year after year. Or when she’d be called into DCF for a meeting, which she came to learn would entail a social worker softly telling her it wasn’t her fault, but her current family placement “just wasn’t the right fit.” She’d never forget the first time, when she looked away, trying not to cry, only to see her belongings already packed in a box in the corner of the room, a metaphor for her existence. No, Emma had effectively banished that word, that emotion...until now.

Like a tiny, twinkling star in a hazy, black sky, Emma woke up, focusing on her idea lest it fade from view. It was faint, but it was there. _I’m going to talk to Granny. Explain it to her. Regina’s not married. We’re not making out in the parking lot. And we’re gay — this should be_ one _time that actually works for me._ Emma ran it through her head: Get to the office early, before Granny. Sit her down: _I didn’t mean for this to happen, but I really like her. And I think I could more than like her. I just want the chance. We’d be discreet. You can trust her. You can trust me — you know that._ She imagined a small smile forming on Granny’s lips, a nod of her head, Granny patting her on the knee. _OK, but don’t let anyone find out._

Fingers traced over the lipstick stain on her pillow. She smiled. _We can do this._

Emma emerged from the shower, feeling light — the tight ball that weighed down her heart gone. She could tell it was warm out, the air in the room felt cooler; spring was coming — the season of new beginnings. She was cracking a window to let in some fresh air when her phone rang.

“Hey,” she began, seeing Ruby’s name on her screen.

“Granny’s making us Sunday dinner, wants you over around 2.”

“And what if I have plans?”

 Ruby snorted. “Bitch, please.”

Emma laughed, she couldn’t help it, Ruby on a good day was one of her very favorite things. And she did love dinners at Granny’s, a semi-regular occurrence.

“You sound better.”

“Getting there.”

“Good. And bring wine. The old lady wants something, I’m sure of it.”

_And maybe I can get something out of her...._

 ***

At 1:55 p.m., cradling a paper bag full of box wine in her left arm, Emma appeared at Granny’s door, which stood to the left of Ruby’s. The pair shared a double-decker, which had been in the Lucas family for four generations: Ruby upstairs (“Hell, yes, I’m on top!”) and Granny below. Emma heard Ruby come barreling down her stairs on the right and fling her door open, stepping onto the enclosed porch.

“Still not allowed to use the backdoor?” Emma smirked. The year prior Ruby, who for her entire life had used the back stairs to enter her grandmother’s house, nearly gave the woman a heart attack after rummaging around her kitchen in the middle of the night, being very hungry, very drunk, and out of food upstairs. Ever since “the home invasion,” as Emma put it, Ruby was relegated to the front, like everyone else.

“No,” she pouted, “shuddup.” She cast a cutting side eye. “You seem peppy today, ’bout friggin’ time. You know it’s open, what are you waiting for?”

“I know Granny only locks the back door, because that’s where all the home invasions start,” she laughed, reaching for the knob.

A string of profanity hung in the air as Emma smiled and opened the door, hip-checking Ruby playfully out of the way and heading for the kitchen. The aroma of chicken and cooking and the indescribable feeling of _home_ filled every square inch of the small space. She knew this apartment so well, she could live in it permanently blindfolded and never have a problem. She passed the room on the right that was hers for her college years, giving the twin bed a wistful glance. Emma loved her apartment, loved the independence, but her heart still had deep roots at 150 Norton Street.

“WE’RE HERE OLD LADY! WE DON’T WANT TO SCARE YOU!” Ruby shouted as they walked through the living room, into the dining room, and then the kitchen.

“That’s what I love about you, Em, you’re always on time,” Granny noted fondly, back to the girls as she whisked the gravy.

“Really? That I’m punctual?” she scoffed.

Granny turned bussed her cheek. “Among other things.”

“Can I talk to you after dinner?” she asked quietly, but confidently.

Granny turned and examined Emma’s face. “Sure, honey. You OK?”

“I’m good,” she smiled.

Emma placed the box of wine on the counter and rummaged around for glasses as Ruby started anew. “Tap that, Emma. The hostess likes her wine so much she needs a spigot to drink it! Honestly, why won’t you let us buy you nice wine and not this garbage?”

“I like what I like,” Granny noted calmly.

“You know ‘Franzia’ is Italian for ‘crap wine for stupid Americans’, right?”

Emma smirked silently, as she passed a glass to Granny, who refused to take Ruby’s bait: “Grab the platter, brat, and head for the table.”

Between the three women, they got all the dishes to the table in one trip, sitting quickly, and digging in.

“Thanks, Gran, this is great,” Emma noted, depositing a fork full of chicken and roast potato into her mouth. She loved dinners at Granny’s and just being in this apartment. It was small, but it was packed with memories, the best of her life, the ones in which she felt like she belonged and was actually wanted. Holidays, school vacations, weeknight dinners when Granny sprung her from the home for the night (“I know the food is terrible there!”). She did more homework at this table than she cared to remember, cut her high school graduation cake in this very spot. She’d never forget the time she stepped out of her bedroom in her college cap and gown, Granny pretending to have a hay fever attack as her eyes welled up, “You did it, kid.”

Emma’s heart was light, filled with good memories and the potential of incredible ones in the future, as she tuned out the sound of Granny and Ruby trading barbs. She smiled as she thought of her plan and a certain brunette, gazing lazily over at her with a sated smirk, long fingers tracing Emma’s eyebrow, then stroking her face.

“Alright, out with it.” The happy memory of Regina popped like a bubble, there one second, gone the next. “What’s up?” Ruby cast a nervous look at her grandmother, who nodded, swallowed, and placed her fork on her plate.

“I do need to talk to you two.”

“Oh, my God, you’re dying!” Ruby blurted, pain etched across her face, eyes wide.

Luckily, Emma had just swallowed her food, or the funeral would have been for her. She coughed and cleared her throat with a quick pull from her water glass, eyes tearing from the temporary loss of air. “Jesus, Rubes!”

“I’m fine, you moron,” Granny noted, giving Emma a few whacks on the back for good measure. “But I do have something serious to tell you.”

“Out with it!” Ruby pleaded, looking as desperate as a women tied to a stake trying to blow out a match.

“Megan’s left the studio.”

Ruby and Emma exchanged looks. Megan McDonald taught ballet and lyrical, and dance teachers do not leave a studio in the middle of a year unless something was very, very, wrong.

“Is she sick?” Ruby asked weakly.

“No one is sick,” Granny sighed. “A parent came to me with a rumor that Megan was fooling around with a father at the studio. A married man.”

Emma felt her face flush at the statement, her heart jamming in her throat as her stomach plummeted.

“I approached her after her last class yesterday and she confirmed it. I cut her a check for what I owed her, told her to clean out her things and wished her luck.”

Ruby’s mouth hung open almost comically, while Emma’s was jammed shut; if she opened it, she might throw up.

“What the hell…” Ruby began. “I always kinda thought you were joking with that rule. I didn’t think anyone would actually do it.”

Emma’s heart began to race, stunned at the mixture of guilt, disappointment, and awful timing.

“So...I need you two to help me cover her classes for the rest of the year. Her recital numbers are all choreographed, the kids know them for the most part, it’s just a matter of cleaning them. I can grab some of her ballet, Ruby, if you can take some of the lyric. Emma, I’ll need you to cover Ruby’s jazz classes when there’s a conflict.”

Emma nodded dumbly, automatically. “Yeah...sure....wow.”

Ruby’s eyes narrowed as she appraised her friend. “You OK? You look like you’re gonna puke.”

Emma felt how hot her cheeks were and she was sure she looked even more upset than she felt, which was considerable. There went her idea, her plan — her hope — once more. _When will I fucking learn nothing ever works out for me?_

“Yeah,” she began, knowing she had to pull out of her daze, even a little bit, lest she raise the eyebrows of two very suspicious women. “I really liked her.” Megan had been teaching at the studio for five years, and was very popular with the kids and staff. “Everyone loved her—”

“—yeah, a little too much.” Ruby withered a touch under Granny’s glare. “Sorry, too soon? Was she just sleeping with him or—”

“I don’t know, I don’t want to know. I asked her if she was fooling around with him and she said she loves him. I heard a rumor the guy left his wife, but I didn’t ask. It doesn’t matter. And before you even think of it, I’m not telling you who it is.”

Emma nodded, she could see the wheels turning in Ruby’s head as mentally went through Megan’s classes, trying to find and follow clues.

“Was it one of her student’s father or just any father?”

“I’m not saying.”

It didn’t matter, Emma thought, with her town and gossip connections, Ruby would have the name by sundown, anyway. _Not that I care, though I would love to kick that guy in the balls right about now._

“It doesn’t matter who it is,” Granny noted sternly. “Parents entrust their children to me and I entrust them to you. This is a massive breach of trust. Plus, it won’t help the studio — you know how small this town is and how fast gossip flies.”

Emma did, and this was a juicy bit of it. She was certain it was all around town already; she and Ruby were probably the last to know. Ruby pressed on: “But — and I’m just playing Devil’s advocate here — it’s 2017. Is this such a big deal? It’s not like we’re _all_ sleeping with parents.”

Emma winced and prayed neither woman saw it. She took a long look at Granny as she spoke. She looked tired, sad, and old. The woman had always looked bulletproof to Emma, but here, in this light, she looked worn, defeated. It hurt her already aching heart even more.

“This man was a student’s father and Megan was a student’s teacher. Would you feel differently if Megan were a school teacher?”

Ruby nodded. “No, I get it. It’s your studio, you make the rules.”

News out, Granny returned to eating. She swallowed a bite, then punctuated her points, fork tines hitting her plate on each one: “This is a major disruption to the students, us, and the rest of the staff. Her older kids probably already know what’s up, what’s that say to them? And it’s a poor reflection on the studio.”

Ruby and Emma nodded, she was right.

Granny set down her fork and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I have very good reasons for this, I’ve seen it before.” After a sip of wine, she continued. “Back when I was first teaching—”

“Vaudeville or talkies?” Ruby snorted.

She tried to glare at her granddaughter, but failed. “Are you done?”

“Sorry, you teed that one up…”

“Anyway, before my studio, I taught at a couple of others. The first was Miss Elizabeth’s.” Seeing the younger women look at each other, she added, “it’s long gone — that’s the point. This was before I married Pop, Ruby. Anyway, Miss Elizabeth’s was _the_ studio on the South Shore. She had a booming business — until one of the teachers ran off with one of the fathers, leaving the mother with five kids and no means support. The family was beloved in their town and everyone felt for the mother, who was embarrassed beyond belief. She ended up moving the family out of town — they had to go back and live with her parents in Connecticut. Families pulled out of Miss Elizabeth’s, one by one in retaliation, fear, or whatever. The studio was shuttered in under a year.”

After more wine, she continued. “Now, I don’t think people will react that way today — I’m not worried about the studio — but I can’t let that happen and not send the message to the families that that behavior is not tolerated. My studio, my rules.”

The young women nodded once more.

“Now,” she began pushing away from the table. “Let me get the schedule, and we can eat and see what we’re looking at.”

Emma remained in a haze during dinner. She appeared to be listening — and she was, kinda — and she could answer questions, but inside her the flame of hope that burned steadily all day was doused, leaving wet, black embers. _Stupid,_ she cursed herself. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. You can’t have it all, dumbass._

“Em?” She looked up at a concerned Granny, who stood, eyeing her with concern. “You OK?”

“Yeah, it’s just a lot to take in right now. We’ll make it work, it’ll be great.” She tried to brighten her eyes and grin, but couldn’t pull up the corners of her lips.

“Are you worried about the extra classes?”

“No, Gran. I mean it.” She placed a hand on the older woman’s forearm. “It’ll be fine. It’s only for a few months and I can make it work. No problem.” She stood — she needed to get out from under the woman’s gaze.

Granny returned the plate in her hand to the table and pulled Emma into her arms. “I can always count on you, girl.” She squeezed harder, then pulled back. “Thank you for keeping an eye on that brat of mine, and for everything you do. I’m so lucky to have you in my family.”

Emma bashfully dipped her head. “Aww, c’mon…”

“No, I mean it.” Granny went to release the woman, then paused. “Wait, what did you want to talk to me about?”

Emma Swan wasn’t much of an actress — she’d be the first to admit that — but she pulled off the lie of a lifetime with warm eyes and a shake of her head. “It’s nothing, Gran. Don’t worry about it.”

**TBC**

 


	8. Chapter 8

The sound of the front door closing, followed by a small argument/scuffle somewhere outside her office, pulled Regina’s focus from her inbox.

“Let me!”

“I really think Regina wants me to—” _Richard,_ her brain supplied.

“Uh, I’m her best friend, believe me. I’m _always_ first choice…” _Jesus, Kathryn, I’m gonna owe him lunch over this one._

Regina sat back and waited for the inevitable entrance. She wasn’t disappointed as Kathryn royally strode in carrying a large, gorgeous floral arrangement like it was the crown jewels on a velvet pillow. “You have...” she began formally, “...a delivery.”

Her attempt at ceremony failed as she was grinning like a maniac.

“You’re the scariest delivery person ever. You look like you’re going to tell me I have syphilis.”

“Hope springs eternal,” she sing-songed, plucking the sealed envelope out of the holder and handing it over.

“What, no fight? You’re not going to make me wrestle you for it? Bribe you? Massage your feet?”

“I’m not opposed to numbers 1 and 3, but no. I just want to watch you while you read it.”

“And...no.”

“C’mon!” Kathryn plopped unceremoniously in the wingback chair facing Regina’s desk.

“I’m turning around, you can watch me after.”

She chuckled to herself as she spun away, listening to the woman grunt in defeat. Carefully sliding a nail under the lip of the tiny envelope — _seriously, why are these so ridiculously small_ — she slowly removed the card and read:

 

**Sarah,**

  **Th** **ank you for an amazing evening. I hope the yellow isn’t too ostentatious.**

**Yours,**

**Beth**

 

She felt her cheeks warm and an impossibly wide smile span her face as she noticed the arrangement was mostly yellow, dominated by sunflowers. The tall glass vase was rounded out by red roses, springs of lavender, and lilies. _I like her so much. Dammit._ “Yours” — _oh, how I wish._

“Alright, turn around slow, like on The Voice.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“So…”

“They’re from a friend.”

“Some friend. A friend you’ve seen naked?”

Regina couldn’t fight the blush that raced across her cheeks as she immediately thought of Emma Swan, slick with perspiration and thrusting on top of her, muscular arms braced on either side.

“OH MY GOD! You’re gonna set off the fire alarm.” Kathryn picked up a file off the desk and began fanning herself. “I just got aroused off whatever you’re thinking about, and I have no idea what it was.” She stopped and leaned in. “Seriously, how are you never seeing this person again?”

“It’s complicated.”

“ _Life_ is complicated, lady.”

“Kathryn, it’s her decision. I respect that.” The tone was sharp and straight-on; it hurt to discuss how she would never feel, laugh with Emma Swan in her arms again.

Kathryn knew when to back off, the tone was a not-so-subtle hint she has creeping toward raw emotion. “OK, chill. But anyone who walks away from you is a fucking idiot.”

***

A riot of blonde hair gingerly rose off a pillow. Not her own, she processed slowly. Squinting, she felt warm weight, and turned — slowly, gently — to spy Ruby’s lithe frame wrapped around her.

“Rubes…” she groaned.

The brunette made a series of annoyed noises that proved she was alive, but little more. Emma extracted herself from her bed mate’s grip, a protest sounding from her lips: “Warm, get back here.”

Emma placed her feet on the floor and assessed her wardrobe: too-large sweatpants and a too-tight T-shirt — her nipples looked like they could burst through at any minute, and the hem of the shirt barely sat north of her belly button. Rising carefully, she shuffled over to Ruby’s closet. It came back to her: The sweatpants were from one of Ruby’s old boyfriends and the shirt belonged to the petite brunette.

Carefully, she rose and shuffled to the closet, vaguely remembering Ruby kept hoodies around there somewhere. Holding onto the wall with one hand, she weakly batted clothes around with the other until she found a pile on the floor and fished out one she wouldn’t pierce with her breasts.

“Rubes…”

“Whaaaaaat?” came a low moan from the bed.

Emma blanked. “I don’t know.” She closed her eyes, found her balance, and remembered, making a lengthy trip to the bathroom for Advil and the kitchen for water. She returned, eased herself into a sitting position on the bed, and cautiously downed three Advil and just enough water to wash them down, followed by a loud exhale.

“Sssshh, too loud,” Ruby moaned, cracking an eye.

The room held only the sound of breathing when Ruby’s phone erupted in Granny’s ringtone, the Miss Gulch theme from The Wizard of Oz.

“FUCK! Help!” Ruby cried.

Emma slowly found the phone on the nightstand and answered. “Hey...” she croaked.

“Why is your car outside my house?”

“Because I’m right above you. Stayed over.” Emma rubbed her face trying to will focus back to her brain. Boy, did she stay over...

After helping Granny with cleanup and talking schedules, Ruby invited Emma up for a drink: “You alright?”

“Eh.” _No, I am terrible, but I don’t want to get into it._

After nearly 20 years of friendship, Ruby could read her best friend as if the emotion were written on her forehead. “Got it.” She knew something was up — Emma wasn’t that tight with Megan McDonald to get broody over the turn of events, and Ruby also knew not to push. She walked out of her living room and quickly returned bearing a bottle of 151 and a 2 liter of Coke. “Let’s get drunk.”

So they did.

Emma couldn’t remember the last time she sat at home and got shitfaced with Ruby. Before she got too far gone, she texted her boss, saying she had a bug and was throwing up. _It’ll probably be accurate in a few hours._ Ruby checked her book and rescheduled her clients for later in the week. “I’m coming down whatever you’ve got,” she winked.

The pair curled up on the couch, watched stupid TV, and drank. They joked about how they could exact revenge on Megan, whom they liked sober, but in their current state wanted to kill.

 _“She ruined my life,” Emma moaned,_ thisclose _to unburdening herself._

_“What?”_

Dumbass, no! _“My spring. She ruined my spring.”_

_“Please, you’ve got no life, anyway.”_

_They considered raiding Granny’s fridge for leftover chicken, but agreed they couldn’t handle the guilt if they accidentally scared the woman to death, then laughed till they nearly wet their pants over the thought of it._

_Emma sat boneless on Ruby’s couch, feet propped up on her coffee table, as Ruby used the blonde’s lap as a pillow. Some plastic Beverly Hills bitch was haranguing another on Bravo, as Emma spoke: “Do you think Granny’s right? If she let Megan stay, it’d send the wrong message?” Hypnotized, she stroked Ruby’s soft hair._

_“Mmmm, that feels great,” she smiled, eyes closed. “Keep going...uh, I guess. The guy’s married, was married, whatever. That’s not cool. The moms are gonna be pissed about it.” Two hours previous Ruby got confirmation of the father in question from her “network.” “I just hope his daughter doesn’t get shit at the studio. If any of my girls give her lip, I’ll make ’em do burpees till they puke.” Emma felt her brain try to add the context clues….right, his daughter, Nicole. A sophomore in Ruby’s competition jazz number._

_“I don’t see the girls doing that.”_

_“Yeah, me neither. But…” she paused to sigh, so dramatically Emma could feel it. “...it’s Granny’s studio, her rules. I get it.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Em?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“You got laid this weekend, right?_

_“Yup.”_

_Ruby snorted. “So if I lay here you’re not gonna get all hot and bothered?”_

_“Nope.” Emma finished off her drink and prepared to rise and mix another. “Sadly for you.”_

“Tell her to pipe down,” Ruby protested, head buried under her pillow. “I can hear her awful screeching from here.”

“If you drunks can drag your sorry asses down the stairs, I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Give us 20? And we’re not drunk anymore.” _At least I don’t think so…_

“Drag your pathetic asses downstairs in 20.”

“That’s accurate. Can we use the back stairs?” Emma tried to laugh and failed, the other party already off the line.

Getting Ruby out of bed was no mean feat sober, hungover and clinging to life, it was torture. But Granny made a good breakfast and Emma was stable enough to attempt to eat it without it making a round trip  — and she wasn’t leaving without her best friend. The pair stepped out of Ruby’s kitchen onto the tiny back porch. The air was fresh and clean, just cool enough to be bracing and wake them further; it felt good. Each gingerly descended the stairs, holding onto the railing on both sides, then entered Granny’s kitchen through the back door.

“Boo,” Ruby moaned. “We’ve come to steal all your shit.”

“You look like shit,” she chuckled from the stove. The women boasted serious bed head, a physics-defying mix of flat and wildly messy hair. Their faces were pale and eyes barely open as they shuffled in like they needed a walker.

Emma eased over to the stove and spied the contents of the cast-iron pan. “Hash,” Granny noted. “The perfect hangover food. So greasy it’ll suck up all the remaining booze in your sad bodies.”

She took Emma in and laughed. “Jesus, you look like you got dressed in the lost and found.”

“Pretty much,” she mumbled, heading for the coffee pot. The kitchen smelled fantastic — grease coupled with black coffee. Emma poured two cups and delivered one to Ruby, who was lying on her folded arms.

“What in the hell did you drink last night?”

“Rum and coke,” Emma noted, quickly amending. “Mostly rum.”

“Why?”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Huh,” she chuckled. “Drinking yourselves blind usually does. It’s the next day that’s the bitch.”

Emma, slumped in a kitchen chair, raised her mug in salute and hummed in agreement.

Granny plated hash, toast, and scrambled eggs for the sorry pair, nudging Ruby’s head up so she could put the plate on the table. “Get up, sunshine. You play, you pay.”

The women ate slowly, but surely, and within a half hour became more human — finishing sentences, processing what was said, and focusing on a speaker’s face. Emma knew Ruby was feeling better the moment she started needling her grandmother.

“You two broads are the same. Cranky young bitch and cranky...veteran bitch,” Emma chuckled.

Granny nodded. “Nice save, Swan.”

“You’re welcome, I give you all the credit.”

“As you should.”

As they watched Ruby clear the table and load the dishwasher, the woman slowly came to life. She turned on the radio and began to shake her ass and sing off-key.

Emma and Granny sat back and enjoyed the show.

“Why can’t you just turn her and make me a happy grandmother in law?”

“You know that’s not how it works, and I’m not a damn vampire,” Emma laughed. “We should have never told you about True Blood.”

“No work for you alcoholics today?”

“We both called in dead,” Ruby giggled from the opposite side of the kitchen.

“30 years old and you two are still as immature as when you roller skated up and down this street.”

“We did that last year, if you recall,” Emma grinned behind her coffee.

“I try not to.”

“We deserve a day off, especially since we’re your indentured dance servants all spring,” Ruby protested, still elbow-deep in suds. “I moved all my clients to Wednesday, big deal.”

Emma snorted, her fingers curling into air quotes: “Clients.” Ruby was a massage therapist — and a good one, at that. But that never stopped her best friend from making hooker jokes whenever she could.

“Feelin’ better, Em?” Granny voiced lowered a touch.

“Yes and no.”

“Well, hon, you need something, you let me know.”

  _wish I could._ “Will do,” she replied. “Thanks.”

 ***

Emma enjoyed her rare lazy Monday. Sure, it started off rough, but she got to spend time with her favorite people, enjoy an illicit weekday trip to the grocery store, and end the unexpected holiday lounging on the couch with Sarah Waters’ “The Night Watch.”

Her eyelids were losing a battle with the book when her phone buzzed.

 

10:07 p.m.

Sarah

**Thank you for the flowers. They were gorgeous.**

 

Emma bit her lip. Shit, the flowers. She had ordered them the previous day in a fit of optimism, _before_ she headed to Granny’s. She figured Regina would reply a thank you, and had hoped to follow that up with: _You’re welcome. Let me take you out to dinner._ But that was out of the question. _Fucking Megan!_ Regardless, why couldn’t she have a little fun? 

_Not as gorgeous as you._

Tucked into bed, Regina smiled at the reply.

**Well, that *is* true.**

_I’m glad you liked them. Meant everything I wrote._

**I know you did. As did I.**

Ah, the note.

_I wish I found you and not the note. But I understand._

  **I didn’t run, BTW. I had to meet Kathryn and Henry. And I couldn’t bear to wake you.** She paused, wondering just how honest she should be. With a rush of courage, she continued typing: **I didn’t want to leave, but if I woke you, I don’t know if I could have. And I know and respect your reasons.**

  _I really (pardon my French) fucking hate my reasons right now, but thank you._

  **You’ll notice I didn’t say I liked them, either. ;-)**

Regina pursed her lips and wondered if she should continue. She decided to keep going; texting afforded her comfortable bravery.

 **I heard about the teacher at the studio.** Sue Walker had messaged her on Facebook Sunday night: _Did you hear?!?_ Regina’s heart sank at the news, understanding Emma’s reasoning even more.

 _Wow, news really does travel fast. You probably knew about it before me, lol_ Emma was surprised and yet not. Jesus, those dance moms love some good dirt.

**Is Eugenia mad?**

_She’s not happy, that’s for sure. Now you understand why I don’t hit on all the married fathers at the studio._

**LOL**

Emma smiled to herself, this wasn’t what she wanted — at all — but it was better than nothing. She steeled herself as she replied.

_This sounds lame, but do you think we could be friends? Like, text? You make me smile and I don’t want to give that up._

The brunette found herself grinning like an idiot at the compliment. It was so sweet, so innocent, so junior high.

 **This century’s equivalent of passing notes? ;-)** She made sure she added the emoticon, lest Emma think she was making fun of her.

_Totes legit. :-D_

**I would like that.** It was something, Regina justified to herself, which was better than nothing.

  _Whaddaya say, Sarah? Secret, sexy pen pals?_

  **Oh, my, Beth, just what *are* we writing?**

 _Uh, probably nothing that could be used in court, you’d know that better than me. ;-) I meant “sexy” as in “We’re sexy,” not what we write._ But given Regina’s bedroom language, Emma had no doubt sexting would get her off faster than a Magic Wand.

**Very well, makes sense in case our notes get intercepted.**

_Yeah, let’s not let that happen. So, how was your weekend..._

***

All year, Wednesday had been Emma Swan’s favorite day of the week, as it was her time to lay eyes on Regina in person, innocently getting so close she could smell her perfume. But this Wednesday was different, even better: It’d be the first time she’d see the object of her affection since she saw the woman in the all-together the previous weekend. She hadn’t received any texts from her pen pal the previous day, but that wasn’t a surprise. They texted until nearly midnight Monday and, unlike Emma, Regina had an actual life.

Emma walked into the studio through the downstairs back door and bounded up the stairs to the main floor, strutting into the hallway with a smile only to...not see Regina. She checked the clock on the wall: 3:50 p.m. Regina and Henry were always here by now. Huh.

Confused, she dumped her stuff in the teacher’s area, changed, said hello to Granny, and emerged, looking for Regina but trying not to look like she was searching for the woman. Sitting in Regina’s seat was Sue Walker, who noticed her stare and waved. “Hey, Sue!” she chirped, trying not to sound confused and disappointed. Emma hung by The Green Room door until she couldn’t delay starting class any further. “Alright, cool kids, let’s dance!”

After class, Emma left her normal post at the rehearsal room door and speed walked to her bag. She fished out her phone, hoping to see a text. Nothing.

“Granny, anyone call for me?” Parents rarely called their kids in sick to dance — it wasn’t school — but she thought she’d ask, just in case.

“No, you expecting one?”

“Ah...no. Thanks.”

Ruby sidled up behind Emma and clapped her on the shoulder, “What up, baby?”

“Ah!” she cried, unable to stifle her reaction when the brunette’s palm landed hard on her still-tender love bite.

“What’s wrong?”

Emma mentally tested 18 different lies in 2 seconds, but decided it was just best to tell the truth; Ruby was hard to fool. She pulled the neck of her shirt open to reveal the black-and-blue area.

“Wow.” Ruby exhaled, impressed. “Sorry, babe. I didn’t know.”

She snuggled into Emma offering a quick side hug. “Again, that women is a fucking idiot to not claim you forever.”

Emma’s next three classes crawled, and she raced out after each to check her phone, only to find it dark. She tried to fight distraction in each one as thoughts bombarded her head: _Did I overstep my bounds? Is Regina having second thoughts? Were we still high from the afterglow when we last texted? Oh, my God, what if she pulled Henry from class?_

The latter made her heart ache. Henry loved the class, and she was crushed at the thought he would get hurt because of their time together.

Emma showered, changed, and sat on the couch staring at her phone, willing it to light up. Nothing. _Fuck it._

**Is everything OK? Didn’t see you at the studio today.**

Regina had just toweled off and mercifully changed into pajamas when she heard her phone buzz. She spied Henry, peacefully sleeping — finally — in her bed. He didn’t flinch.

She smiled as she began typing.

_We missed you. Henry has that fever bug and has been throwing up since yesterday. I brought him to the pediatrician, worried he may be dehydrated._

**OMG, is he OK?** Her concern over Henry was happily blanketed by Regina’s choice of pronoun: They missed me.

_He’s fine. He’s finally able to hold down a little Pedialyte and some popsicles. He just has to ride it out. Between trying to work from home, making sure he didn’t throw up all over my furniture, and ensuring he avoided a trip to the ER, it’s been a long day!_

I **bet. Do you need anything? I can run to the store.**

Regina’s heart clenched at the offer. She was certain if she texted back a 25-item shopping list, Emma would be at her door within an hour.

_You are so sweet. No, we have all we need._

**If you think of anything, let me know, OK?**

_Will do. How was your day?_

Emma reclined on the couch and tapped out a reply. She wanted to be at Regina’s house, wherever the hell that was, helping her. Holding her. Ensuring she ate and was taken care of. This was new; Emma had never felt the yearning to care for another like this. The sensation was scary, but at the same time, somewhat exciting. What she wanted and what she could have with the brunette were much further apart than she liked. But this, whatever this was...this would do. Her mind immediately served up images of Granny today, face serious, pained, and tired, as she answered quiet questions from parents of dancers in Megan’s classes. It would have to.

**TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks to Angie for the beta and encouragement

As the days and weeks progressed, so did Regina and Emma’s super-secret arrangement. The pair quickly fell into a comfortable rhythm: Regina would text Emma nightly, usually around 10 p.m. By then, Henry was well asleep and Emma was home from either the studio or the gym, and showered.

While it was never officially agreed upon, text nights were Sunday through Thursday. Regina held off on Fridays and Saturdays, thinking Emma would be going out with Ruby, or someone else. _Hopefully only Ruby,_ she told herself. The women continued to see each in person only once a week and tried hard — very hard — to sell the passing nod and glance. Polite smiles and “Good afternoons” were the name of the game as they tried pretending they knew each other only from that hallway, not that Regina knew the dance teacher spilled grape juice down her scrubs at work or that Emma could tell you Henry was named Star of the Day at school.

_Was he excited?_

**You can’t imagine. He got to wear a special sticker and be the line leader all day**

_That sounds like a big deal_

**Oh, it *was***

A picture of Henry wearing said sticker and smiling impossibly wide popped up on Emma’s screen.

_God, he’s so cute._

Emma couldn’t stop her smile when she saw his mop of brown hair, broad grin, and expressive eyes, which in the picture were slits as his gigantic smile pushed round cheeks north. She sensed an opening for a question she had tucked in her back pocket since she first spied the woman and learned she was a single parent. Brave behind a screen, she ventured forth.

_Can I ask you a personal question? If you don’t want to answer, that’s OK…_

Tucked in bed and propped up on her elbows, her favorite texting place and position these days, Regina tilted her head and typed.

**Fire away**

_Does Henry have a mom, or a dad, your ex?_

Regina smiled, _Ah ha,_ while Emma bit her lip wondering, waiting seemingly for minutes, for a text bubble to burst onto her screen.

**Artificial insemination. I picked the donor from the clinic’s list based on qualities I deemed important; it was all anonymous. I don’t have an ex.**

Emma smiled again in odd relief, given they were, after all, just friends.

_You don’t have any exes?_

**Why, Miss Swan, I’m uncertain as to you why you are inquiring about such? ;-) But, no, I’ve never been married.**

_Well, my line of questioning is perfectly pertinent to my interest as your friend and getting to know you better. Habeus corpus. E pluribus unum. Hakuna matata._

**Someone has watched a lot of Law & Order**

_I’m practically second chair under Jack McCoy. I’m a veteran of several Memorial Day *and* Labor Day USA marathons_

**Why did I even go to law school?**

_I know, right?_

**I haven’t been in a relationship since I had Henry.**

Regina shook her head, wondering why she volunteered that particular bit of information. Something about Emma made her fearless. She had never felt so comfortable, so compatible, with a person so quickly.

_Why?_

A wave of sadness washed over Emma’s heart, hurting at the thought of Regina all alone.

**I never found the right person. And I would never introduce any potential partner to Henry unless I saw a long future with her. I couldn’t risk him growing attached to a parental figure who could leave his life.**

A smirk pulled Regina’s lips to the corners as she saw the opening Emma created.

**What about you? Any serious relationships?**

Emma grinned as she realized she walked right into that.

_A couple, when I was younger. Haven’t been in one for probably three years now. And before you can ask — same as you, haven’t found the right person._

Or I have, she told herself, and she’s unavailable.

_I got let down a lot in the past, with families and stuff when I was in the system. I have friends, but I don’t get very close to many: Granny, Ruby._

**That’s it?** _Shit,_ Regina scolded herself for fishing. Texting and her growing feelings for Emma were a dangerous combination.

_Well, and maybe some random pen pal here and there. ;-)_

**I’m honored.**

_Oh, I wasn’t talking about you._ Emma let it hang for a second, then typed as quickly as she could.

_KIDDING! Kidding. Yes, pen pal, you._

She exhaled in relief has a blushing emoticon popped up in reply.

_Is that OK?_

Regina’s heart squeezed. She imagined soft green eyes looking up at her uncertainly. Only a kid jerked around by the system would ask someone if it’s OK to like them.

 **More than.** Regina was close, so close, to adding a heart icon, but refrained. No, too much.

_Phew, now I can cut loose Svetlana from Moldova, she was my insurance policy if you said No._

***

It was just after 10 o‘clock on the second Tuesday in April when Emma’s phone buzzed with a surprising message.

**May I call you?**

Emma stared at the phone as if it were lying.

_Sure_

Seconds later, the phone rang.

“Hey,” she began, hoping nothing was wrong. “Are you OK?” Emma lay back on her couch, the Sox game on in the background.

A rich chuckle rolled into her ear. “Yes, sorry to worry you. Henry’s got a class party tomorrow, and I volunteered to make cookies. My hands are occupied, so I thought we could...talk.” Regina hesitated. _Maybe this wasn’t OK?_

“No, that’s fine...good...cool,” Emma shuttered searching for the right adjective. She shook her head as if to dislodge the idiocy. “This is good. Alright…” She exhaled to reset herself. “So, first, super important: What kind of cookies? Oh, and what happened with Kathryn and her date? I’m dying over here.”

They talked cookies and Kathryn for a half hour, until they wound back to matters of dance, as they did most Tuesday evenings. The recital was only 6 weeks away; costumes were in. Dances were in their final weeks of rehearsals, which meant the observation windows to each room were covered.

“And _what_ is Eugenia up to covering the windows?”

Emma chuckled at the faux-but-not-really ticked-off tone in her friend’s voice. “She does it every year. Wants the dances to really be a surprise for parents come recital—” A clatter cut her off. “You OK?”

“Fine,” Regina replied, blowing her hair out of her face. “Just putting another batch in the oven.”

“How many cookies do those little nerds eat?”

“ _A lot._ So, the window…”

“Yeah, she wants you to see the full effect on stage, with the lights, costumes, dress rehearsal time, etc. It’s cool, you’ll love it.”

“Well, I do not love staring at an old copy of The Herald taped to the window, I’ll tell you that.”

“Are you missing your favorite sights, Ms. Mills? The natural beauty of The Green Room?”

Regina could hear the grin in Emma’s voice. “I miss seeing my son dance,” she began formally, “among others.”

“Liiiiiiiike…” Emma knew it was juvenile, but she wanted to hear the woman say it. Any compliments from her, no matter how benign — even her warm voice — gave Emma a thrill. She felt like she was 12 every time she spoke to Regina.

“The Cooper boy is good, too.”

“Regina!” Emma huffed in fake outrage as the brunette laughed heartily. _This is fun,_ she thought, as the woman on the other end of the line continued to crack herself up.

“Kidding!” The last few stray chuckles appeared and left, Regina coughing to clear her throat. “I enjoy your...talents as well.” The brunette’s voice had dropped to almost a purr, an effect that was lost in texting, Emma noted. Inflections, tone, timing — they added an entirely new dimension to their communication. It was far more intimate, more real. _Way better than texting._

“As well you should, Ms. Mills,” Emma smiled. “As well you should.”

On her way to the studio the following day, Emma was surprised to see a text pop up on her phone.

 

3:30

Sarah

**Leave one of the Jeep doors open.**

 

Emma had to wait 2 minutes to reply as she finished her commute to the studio and pulled in the lot, parking on the side next to Granny and Ruby’s cars. It was the longest 2 minutes of her life.

_Um, you know, car bombs go *under* the car._

**Very funny. Just do it.**

_Wow, bossy. Do you remember which gorgeous vehicle is mine?_

**Yes, the one that can be seen from space.**

_Ha ha. Driver’s side is unlocked. If you hot wire it, I’ll be impressed *and* turned on._

**Don’t tempt me.**

Even though they were simply 1s and 0s on a screen, the words sparked a frisson of excitement up Emma’s spine. She hopped out of the Jeep and into the back door of the studio, smoothly striding in, trying to tamp down the excitement and anticipation she felt bubble up every week at this time.

“Miss Emma!” Henry exclaimed as soon as she came into view. He raised his hand for a high-five, which the blonde happily provided.

“Good afternoon, Miss Emma,” Regina noted dutifully, with a small, neutral nod.

“Afternoon, Ms. Mills.” Emma ducked into the teacher’s lounge, dropped off her stuff, and removed her hoodie. She walked out slowly, trying to add a little sway to her hips, just enough to be noticed by a certain brunette, of whom she was certain had her eyes on the ass in question.

She headed for The Green Room, and thankful for the chaos and crush of incoming students and chatter, tossed Regina a sly wink when she was sure no one was watching. After class, she high-fived her students, Henry included, on the way out, but paid not a glance nor a word to his mother so as not to arouse suspicion. With 5 minutes between classes, she speed-walked down the hallway and out the back door, watching the Mills’ Benz turn right out of the lot. She jogged over to her Jeep and opened the door to find a large Tupperware container of...chocolate chip cookies —  _yes, score!_ — on the floor.

Underneath was a note: “I made too many, hope you don’t mind,” followed by a smiley face. Emma plucked one, resealed the top, and then locked her door, eating on the way back into the studio. _Shit, these are good._

***

“Heyyyy,” Emma smiled into the phone a couple weeks later.

“Hey, yourself,” came the quiet reply.

Regina’s tone was far more serious than Emma had grown accustomed to over the past month. “Are you OK?”

“Yes,” she sighed, resting her head on her pillow, it suddenly felt heavy. “Do you know that girl...Maggie?”

Emma didn’t need any further explanation to understand what her friend was asking. “Yeah, I do.”

Maggie Liscanti was a third grader in Denwick — the town was so small it had only one. She’d caught seemingly every bug and virus sick all year, but doctors found nothing wrong. Her mother insisted on a second opinion — in Boston — where doctors ran one more panel and discovered the girl had Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. Once news broke, the town rallied around the family. A GoFundMe was established, the story hit the town’s weekly newspaper, and the 12,000 residents practically tripped over each other to help the family out. That’s one good thing about small towns, they know how to rally around their own.

“I feel so terrible for her family,” Regina sighed. Emma could practically hear the pained expression on her friend’s face.

“I ran into Maggie’s mom at the studio, she came to tell us in person, and she said if you have to have leukemia, ALL is the best kind to get. It has a very high survival rate.”

“Is she one of your students?”

“Yeah. She’s one of my kids.” Regina warmed at Emma’s description. “I came home and cried my eyes out. I’m OK now.”

 _I wish I could have been there to hold you,_ Regina thought to herself. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Thanks.” Scrubbing her eyes, Emma continued: “So they’re having a fundraiser at the high school next weekend. There’s a bunch of stuff going on, and Ruby and I will be running a Zumba-a-thon.”

“What’s that?” Regina laid back on her pillow, closing her eyes; they were watery and her heart heavy. Earlier that night, Sue Walker messaged her, asking if she heard about the girl. With Henry in kindergarten, Regina wasn’t that plugged into the news mill at school yet, and hung up at the courthouse all day, she hadn’t had a chance to peruse the town’s newspaper. Sue ran down the details and sent her a link to the online version of the story. It made her heart break: a young child critically ill, parents helpless — every mother’s worst nightmare, which was saying something considering how many nightmares lurked in the corner in the minds of most mothers.

“It’s like a giant Zumba class, but we can’t call it Zumba, Granny refused to pay the Zumba people to use the name,” Emma snickered. “We’re calling it ‘Move for Maggie.’ Ruby and I will run a regular latin fitness class, but instead of doing it at the studio, we do it in the high school gym. We can have a gigantic class. Everyone pays $10, gets a nice workout, and all the money goes to the family.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“It’s the least we can do. We did one a few years ago for another fundraiser and raised $500 in an hour. If we’re that lucky this time, the family can use it for gas, meals on the go, you name it.”

“How are you holding up?”

“I…” she began, then paused. “I’ve taught Maggie since she was 4. She’s one of my kids, and any time one of them hurts, I hurt. It sounds dramatic, but...”

“I get it.”

Emma ran a hand through her hair and felt her throat start to tighten. “I remember her first year. She was trying to nail this move called the coffee grinder. I won’t even try to explain it, it’s easier to Google it and see it.” Regina immediately grabbed her iPad and did just that. “Anyway, I watched her try again and again, week after week. She asked me to take the move out of the number and I refused; I knew she could do it. Sure enough, she gets it — _nails it_ — about a month out from rehearsal. I never saw a kid so proud of herself.”

Regina could feel her chest swell, the pride in Emma’s voice was so clear. “Anyway, her mom comes up to me after the recital and says…” Her voice began to waver. “...she told her mom that she kept trying because I told her she could do it.” Tears ran down Emma’s cheeks as she fought to keep her voice under control. “‘Miss Emma believes in me,’ she said.” Emma paused as her breath hitched. “She’s only 8, for God’s sake.”

“Oh, Em, I’m so sorry,” Regina soothed. “I wish I could be there for you.” _I wish I could hold you. I wish I could dry your tears. I wish I could stroke your hair while you cried in my arms._ Wishing was dangerous for this pair. It led to more wishing, and dreaming, then back to reality, a voice on a telephone line. “You’re an amazing teacher, I see it every week, of course she was motivated by you.”

“You called me ‘Em.’” The very thought made Emma smile, as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffled loudly.

“Oh, I—”

“No, I like it. It’s what Ruby and Granny call me, when they’re not calling me an asshole.” She chuckled softly. “That’s mostly Ruby.”

“I would never call you that. Amazing. Incredible. Beautiful. But never that other word.”

“You know, when I saw Maggie’s mom at the studio, she asked me to come into Dana Farber to visit Maggie. I’m going to go Sunday.”

“But it’s Easter.”

“Well, I don’t really have any plans, just dinner with Ruby and Granny. Plus, I figure maybe the day won’t suck as bad for her if I’m there to take her mind off it. I told her...” she paused, and when she felt under control, continued. “I told her to tell Maggie that Miss Emma believes in her and that I would see her Sunday.”

“That’s beautiful.” Regina felt a rush of affection squeeze her heart for this women, this teacher, who so clearly loved her students. “I believe in you, Em.”

“Well,” she sighed, feeling more alone than she could ever remember, “I’m glad somebody does.”

***

“Did you see the story about the girl in town who was diagnosed with leukemia?”

Regina nodded as she swallowed a fork full of pasta, one eye on her ever-growing inbox. “Yes, it’s awful. Speaking of, they’ve set up a GoFundMe to help the family out with expenses, etc. I think the firm should donate.”

Kathryn smacked the desk in proud agreement. “Absolutely!”

“I swear, I don’t get your moods, sometimes. What’s with all the enthusiasm? And why are you eating lunch at my desk? You have a desk, too, you know.”

Kathryn held a sandwich in her hands and grinned maniacally. An evil giggle escaped. “I think we should do more than just money.”

Regina scoffed, “You think they need legal advice?”

A niggling feeling in the back of Regina’s brain warned that Kathryn was going to propose something she would not like, and she was right. With all things Kathryn, Regina hated to be right. “I also saw they’re having a big fundraiser at the high school with a lot of kid crap. And Henry’s dance studio is doing a thing there to raise money. I think we should go.”

“As in bring Henry to the ‘kid crap,’ as you so maternally called it?”

“No, as in ‘Go shake it at the dance thing.’ And, yeah, I guess we could bring Hen to the kid crap, too, if you want,” she added, dismissively.

Regina was shocked. Group exercise was anathema to Kathryn. “ _Why?_ ”

A devilish grin was the sole reply. Oh. _Oh._

“Oh, no.”

“Miss Hot Body is leading it. I want to meet her.  We’re going.”

“ _We_ are not.”

“Fine, I’m going.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Hey, I am an adult trying to do something charitable.”

“You’re a nosy ass trying to cause trouble and/or give me a coronary.”

“If you don’t go with me, I’ll go alone,” Kathryn noted superiorly, pointing at her with the remainder of her sandwich. “ _You_ won’t be able to introduce me to Miss Hot Body, which means _I_ will have to introduce myself.”

Regina felt herself go white at the thought, then smirked. _Emma would probably love that, given how much she’s heard about Kathryn. Shit, I have to warn Emma._ Then she realized, if she went, she could actually see Emma in person again. Albeit from a distance, but she’d take it.

“What are you smiling about?” Kathryn’s eyes narrowed.

“Because this is the worst idea I’ve heard from you in a while and going along with it is the least-painful option.”

Kathryn stood and raised her hands above her head. “Winner, and still chaaaaaaaaaampion!” she crowed.

“Hey, walk it back a bit. Remember the real reason for this.” Regina pulled up her phone and produced a picture: Emma in a hospital mask and gown with a smiling Maggie on her lap in a brightly decorated hospital room. The caption read: “The Easter Bunny brought #MightyMaggie her favorite dance teacher.”

“Where’d you find this?”

“It was on Maggie’s family’s Facebook page. They started one to keep people informed about how she’s doing, the latest news.” Regina neglected to add that Emma had texted it to her Sunday night, along with a whole report on how the day went.

“Hot Body visited the girl — on Easter?”

“Her _name_ is Emma, and yes — she caught herself quickly — apparently she did.” _That was close._

“Well, then,” Kathryn nodded, “I look forward to meeting _Emma the Kind_ on Saturday.” She popped the last bite of sandwich into her mouth, chewed, and continued, catching her friend’s gaze and refusing to let go: “Regina, I swear: Why you’re not barking up that tree,” she jerked her head toward phone, “I’ll never know.”

***

The following Saturday, Denwick Elementary School was the place to be. The parking lot filled quickly, forcing cars to find whatever spots they could in the surrounding neighborhoods. The sounds of music, joyous squeals, generators, and overall fun wafted far beyond the grounds, advertising a busy afternoon for all and beckoning the park-and-walk crowd in the right direction.

The school’s large sports field sported three bouncy houses, a dunk tank, and everything from three-legged races to Twister. Tables lined the bordering blacktop offering face painting, balloon art, caricatures, walk-about magicians, raffles, silent auctions, and a fleet of food trucks. The 45-minute Zumba-But-Not-Really-a-Thon was being held in the school’s dual purpose cafeteria/auditorium, where on the small stage at the front Emma and Ruby busied themselves setting up.

“What’s up with you?” Ruby asked, eyebrow notching north as she plugged her phone into the portable speaker system. “You’re all, like…,” cocking her head, she searched for the right adjective “...peppy.”

Emma was excited; she was thrilled when Regina shared that she would be at the event.

_“Really? That’s amazing. I can’t wait!” she chuckled._

_“What?”_

_“I’m worried I’ll dance off the stage if I watch you. Some teacher.”_

_Now it was Regina’s turn to giggle. “You will not.”_

_“I might!” She laughed again. “I mean, I look at you and…”_ _She decided to stop, she was nearing a border she couldn’t cross._

_“Flatterer.”_

_“Well, it’s true.”_

Emma was fired up — especially about the opportunity to see Regina. Sure, it’d probably be just a hi-bye, decorum wouldn’t allow for much more, but she would see her friend in person for the second — second! — time this week. Regina would be dancing, hopefully in fewer clothes than she wore at the studio. Her thoughts immediately returned to Elsie’s weeks earlier, a sly grin curling her lips. There would be none of _that_ dancing today, which was good _and_ bad.

“Emma…” No response. “EM-MA!” Ruby hollered into the now-live wireless headset mic that hugged the back of her head and echoed throughout the large room.

A blonde head whipped: “What?”

“Get your head in the game, will you? There’s gonna be a lot of people here and I can’t have you, like, dancing off the stage.”

Emma smirked, “You’re right, sorry.” She looked up at the sound of voices and saw a crowd of people start to stream in. “Looks like our kinda people,” she noted, taking in their shorts, T-shirts, tights, sweats, and other general workout gear. Her eyes scanned the crowd and those coming through the door, looking for a particular brunette.

“Yeah, we’re up in 10. Bobby’s doing the announcing outside. I’ll have him remind people we start on the hour.” Ruby scampered off, intercepted here and there on the way out by parents she knew from the studio and friends from around town.

“Hey, everybody, afternoon,” Emma greeted, adjusting the mic slightly, eyes still roving. “We’ll be leading the class from here, so find a spot wherever you like and face this way. We’ll start soon.”

Just as she switched off the mic, she spied Regina cautiously walk through the door and assess the room with Kathryn, or someone who looked exactly like Kathryn’s photo on the Midas & Mills website. Wearing sneakers, tight blue workout capris, and a grey Nike t-shirt, Regina was adorably makeup-free; Emma realized she had never seen the woman this cute and casual in public. Is this how she dressed when she ran errands? Worked in the yard? When they spoke on the phone? Emma wished, oh how she wished, she knew. She watched the pair grab a spot in what she called the “first-timers’ section”, aka, the very back of the room. This was good. Regina would be harder to ogle and Emma would be less likely to embarrass herself by toppling into the crowd. As Kathryn bent down to tie her shoe, Regina caught Emma’s glance, held it, and smiled. Emma smiled back, a huge grin stretching across her face. She was dying to wink at the brunette, but unable to with so many potential witnesses. She could hear the gossip mill now: _“Who was Miss Emma winking at at the fundraiser?”_

From the back of the room, Regina checked out Emma, who looked fit and fierce in black workout tights and sneakers, a tight pink tank top with #MIGHTYMAGGIE emblazoned across the front, and a black and white checked flannel tied around her waist. Regina had seen the tanks and Ts table as she walked in and made a mental note to buy one before she left. Emma’s hair was pulled back in a french braid and she seemed to glow as person after person came up to the stage to talk or say Hi. Her face was so open and joyful; she was more beautiful than Regina had ever seen her.

Ruby bounded back on the stage and cued up some background music while more participants filed in. “Wow, gonna be a full house,” she noted.

“That’s what we want. So, how do you wanna do this?”

Ruby picked up the cheat sheet she prepared. “Let’s split it. You lead one part, then me, etc. So that leaves me with warmup, cumbia, salsa, and mambo. I’ll take the squats and lunges part in the middle, too. You do merengue — I can’t do that for shit, _still_ — samba, mambo, soca, and cool down.”

Emma couldn’t help but laugh. Ruby was so shitty at merengue. “Sounds good.”

“Shut up, you,” Ruby ordered, as she taped the 8x10 rundown to the floor in front of them, just in case they forgot the order. “Ready?”

“Yup.” Emma stole one more glance at Regina, who was watching her with a grin, and raised her eyebrows. “Alright!” Emma clapped her hands over her head. “Can everybody hear us?”

A series of shouts and hollers answered. “Very good. I’m Emma—” She was cut off by claps and cheers from the class. She smiled and bobbed into a shallow curtsey. “Why, thank you. And this is Ruby…” More cheer and hoots follow as Ruby waved at the crowd, arms outstretched above her head. “...and we’re from Step in Time.” More whoops. “I spy some of my latin fitness friends here—” She was again interrupted by more whoops and chuckled. The latin fitness crew was a rowdy crowd to begin with. “...and I see a lot of new faces, which is _fantastic_.” Emma tried hard not to glance at the right rear of the room and failed spectacularly. “Anyway, if you’re new to this, there is nothing tough here. Just follow us, do your best, and have fun! We’re here for a good time and we’re here for Maggie!”

“Alright, who’s ready to move for Maggieeeeeeeee?” Ruby hollered. The petite woman was wearing a matching pink Maggie tank and lightweight white pants covered entirely in thin fringe, which shimmied like they were sizzling on a livewire when she moved. Emma clapped as she watched Ruby whip the crowd into a frenzy. “Let’s show her what we’ve got!” Cueing the music, she began step-touching, side to side, and clapping her hands as a heavy percussion and peppy upbeat synth rang out: “Let’s start slow, get those muscles warm and movin’.” Emma mirrored Ruby’s movements with a smile, letting her friend take the lead.

Fifty minutes later, Emma, Ruby, and the class were slick with sweat as the blonde led them through deep breaths and final stretches. “Inhale, 2-3-4. Arms over your head and hold...now exhale slowly.” She began to clap, first at the crowd, then at Ruby. “Way to go, you guys! You’re done! Let’s hear it for you and let’s hear it for Maggie!” After a break in the cheering, she added, “If you had fun tonight and want to come out and play again, we offer latin fitness every Tuesday and Thursday, 7-8, at Step in Time. Come see us.” Emma saw Granny give her a thumbs-up from the crowd.

She also stole a quick glance at Regina, who was talking to Kathryn, before she toweled off her face and took a long pull off her water bottle. She gently pulled off her headset, which was disgustingly wet, _I’ll disinfect that later,_ and hopped off the stage onto the floor, where she was quickly deluged by high-fives.

In the rear of the room, Kathryn Midas straightened up to her full height after previously being bent over, hands on knees. “I’ll admit,” she began, still a little out of breath, “that was a workout. I thought it was going to be some old-lady thing but, man, that was good.”

Not one to try new pursuits in public, Regina regardless found herself grinning just a few minutes into the warmup. The music was fantastic and Ruby was relentlessly enthusiastic. The steps were challenging, but fun, and any awkwardness quickly faded away as she tried to follow along and breathe. “No one is watching you!” Ruby hollered to the class at one point. And she was right, everyone was so engrossed in their own workout they didn’t have the time to check out anyone else’s prowess — or lack thereof. But she did watch Emma, intently, as the blonde led the class, hips swiveling smoothly, completely fluid.

“It was, wasn’t it?” Regina agreed, as she watched Emma surrounded by well-wishers. Several people pulled out phones to snap selfies with the blonde.

“Ms. Hot—, I mean, Miss Emma, is quite the popular gal, eh?”

Regina was transfixed on Emma’s face, which was blazingly bright and joyful as she talked and laughed with those who approached her. During class, Regina followed along and watched in awe. She had seen Emma lead a class, but only through a window. This meant she never heard everything the woman said to her students — the encouragement, the smiles, the excellent, clear instruction, which she made look easy, but Regina knew wasn’t. It was so obvious this was Emma’s calling, why she loved it so, and why she made the hard decision to stay at the studio and adhere to its rules. Even though the women spoke every day, they avoided talking about what they couldn’t have. The tacit agreement was working; talking about what could not be was too painful. Regina’s heart squeezed at the truth: Emma was where she belonged, but she was happy for her friend at the same time. _If you love somebody, set them free_ popped into her head, unbidden.

“That she is.” She bent to get her water bottle and when she stood saw Emma approaching with a smile.

“Way to go, Ms. Mills,” the teacher grinned, trying to remember to talk to Regina as if she were just another parent, not someone whom she was pretty much in love with and spoke to daily. She fought a dorky smile trying to take over.

“Thank you. I had a really good time.” She pointed to a smirking Kathryn. “This is my friend, Kathryn.”

Emma smiled, trying hard to bite back a shit-eating grin, and shook Kathryn’s extended hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m Emma.”

“So I see. I really enjoyed class. How do you remember all those moves?” Regina could tell the woman was sizing Emma up, she’d seen it countless times before. The body language was a dead giveaway: arms crossed, eyes subtly scanning, weight on one leg. To anyone else it looked completely normal, but Regina knew better.

“Eh, it’s just a lot of repetition,” she shrugged with a smile. “Plus, we dance teachers only have to be able to count up to 8, so that helps.” She chuckled, then looked at them both. “Come down to the studio and try a class. It’s all drop-in, so come whenever you make it.”

“We just might,” Kathryn answered. “How’s Henry doing in class? I’m looking forward to recital.”

“You should, it’s going to be great! Henry is an awesome kid.” Suddenly, Emma didn’t know what to do with her hands. She placed her palms together and tilted them at the pair. “Obviously, you knew that.” Swiveling her head, Regina could practically see the question form on Emma’s fair face. “Where is he, anyway?”

“He’s running around with Sue Walker and her girls,” Regina chuckled. “I think he knows more people than me here.”

“Well, he is a popular guy.”

“Emma, where’d you get that shirt?” Kathryn asked.

“Oh, they’re selling them out there by the front.”

“I have to get one. Regina, wouldn’t let me wear my first choice,” she teased, lips curling into a sly grin.

Emma could see the brunette blanche at the statement; she was unsure of what to do next, but felt like she couldn’t leave the declaration hanging. “Uh, dare I ask?”

“You sure can,” she drawled. “I don’t understand how a T-shirt that says ‘Lawyers Do It In Their Briefs’ is inappropriate,” she curled her fingers into air quotes casting a disparaging glance at Regina, “for a dance class.”

A flame of irritation mixed with protectiveness sparked in Emma. Knowing what she did of Kathryn, she knew she was trying to tweak her introverted friend and make her uncomfortable. And Emma did not like that one bit. Steeling her gaze, she smiled sweetly, “Well, we know that’s not true, now isn’t it?” She snuck a quick peek at Regina, who was somehow even more pale.

“Oh, really?” Kathryn met her volley and returned. “Do tell.”

Regina wasn’t sure what shocked her more — Kathryn spilling the story (which was true, she did show up to Regina’s house in that shirt) or Emma giving as good as she got.

“Lawyer or not, briefs usually made a quick exit, am I right?”

The 5-second silence was deafening as two blondes waited for the other to make the next move. Kathryn broke first, barking out a laugh and clapping Emma on her back. “I _like_ you. You’re OK.”

Emma watched Regina exhale in relief and hoped she didn’t cross a line with the brunette.

“Alright, I need a drink,” Kathryn announced. “But first....I need a picture of you two.”

“What?” Regina blurted. Emma had to choke back a laugh at the woman’s shocked expression.

“C’mon, I know Hen will want a picture of his mom and his favorite dance teacher. Let’s go, get together.”

The women moved side by side, trying not to look too friendly, and it showed.

“Are you two in front of a firing squad? Get closer!” Kathryn demanded, oblivious to the concerns at hand.

Emma sidled right up next to Regina and slung a hand over her shoulder, pulling her close and curling her hand around a trim shoulder, giving it a tiny, imperceptible squeeze for good measure when Kathryn looked down at her phone. The last time she touched the woman they were naked in her bed. Regina’s skin felt electric under her fingers, and Emma swore she felt the brunette tremble at her touch.

“Yes, there you go! Now, 1...2...3.” Kathryn took the picture and checked it out. “Nice smile, Regina. Finally.” Kathryn pocketed her phone and picked up her water bottle. “Emma, nice to meet you. I just might pop by the studio.”

“You do that,” Emma smiled back. The woman was a tough cookie, but she could see what Regina valued in her. Regina stared at Emma, dying to stay and talk more — privately — but Kathryn had taken off and clearly expected Regina to follow suit. There was no way to delay without arousing suspicion or having to make up a raft of white lies on the spot.

Emma nodded warmly as Regina’s eyes widened, trying to convey that she wanted to stay. “Glad you had fun, Ms. Mills. See you next week.” As Kathryn turned around and walked away, Emma slyly slipped her phone out of pocket, and holding it by her hip shook it side to side a few times. The message was clear: _Call me._ Regina nodded, a soft smile on her face, she wanted nothing more.

***

“Did Henry throw up yet?” Emma teased.

“No, and I’m shocked. He ate so much garbage.”

Emma chuckled. “C’mon, it was a big day. He deserved to have fun.”

“And I deserve to not clean up vomit tonight.” Emma could hear the smile in Regina’s voice.

They’d been on the phone for 20 minutes already, talking about the day, there was a lot to cover.

“I can’t believe how good you are,” Regina sighed, more unguarded than normal after two glasses of wine that seemed to jet to her head faster than normal.

Emma scoffed. “Really. _Really?_ I am so insulted!” Though the laugh that followed projected the exact opposite. “You can’t believe I’m a good dancer? Even after our private lesson?” Emma regretted the statement the minute it left her mouth. They never talked about that night. She sure as hell thought about it, usually alone at night with her hand under the covers, but the women expertly sidestepped it any time there was an opening in which it would fit. Until now.

A slow, dirty chuckle crept over the line. “Well, good point, you.” She tittered a little more. “I guess I meant in front of a class.”

“Oh, well, then, you’re forgiven.” Emma hoped she’d be, but before she could think about it more she heard a sharp inhalation on the other end of the line. “You OK?”

“Ow!” Another gasp.

“Regina, what’s up?”

“I—ah!”

“Regina, talk to me, what’s going on?”

“Cramp,” Regina squeezed out in between gritted teeth. “Shit, this hurts like hell.”

“Where?” Emma sat up on her couch, feet on the floor.

“Calf.”

“OK,” Emma rubbed her forehead. “Take both hands and rub _gently_ over the area.” The labored breathing she heard was her only answer. “Any better?”

“No.”

“Can you stand?”

Emma heard a grunt, followed by a terse “No.” “That’s OK, put your leg out straight and try to pull the top of your foot toward your head. But keep your leg straight.” She waited, breathing still heavy as Regina worked through the unabating pain. “Any luck?”

“It still kills. God, I’ve never had one this bad.”

“Do you get them a lot?”

“Here and there, but never like this," she winced. "Ah, godammit!"

Emma collected her thoughts. “Regina?”

“Mmmm?” she groaned.

“What’s your address? I’m coming over.”

**TBC**


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news: There will be one more chapter after this. My ambitions for this chapter were too high: there was just too much going on, too much to write to jam it into a huge finale. And it was taking forever to finish, so I split it. Still working on the final chapter.
> 
> Thank you to Angie for the beta, you wouldn't have this without her.
> 
> And thanks to you for your thoughtful comments. Keep 'em coming, they really, truly make my day.

Regina spat out her address in Emma’s ear as the blonde grabbed her keys, shrugged on a hoodie, and raced out of her apartment. “I’ll be right over. Stay put.”

She gunned the jeep and plugged in Regina’s address into Waze. She’d be there in...10 minutes.

Ten minutes. Ten minutes? _All this time Regina lived ten fucking minutes away?_ Emma spent the quick drive kicking herself. Pulling up to 108 Mifflin Street, she spied the white Colonial Revival with the black shutters and portico, just as Regina described. Her yellow jeep found a spot in the driveway alongside the Benz in the driveway, like it belonged there.

Emma’s footfalls were quick and determined as she jogged up the brick walkway. The air was warm for early May and that, combined with worry and hurry over Regina, left her wishing she’d left her sweatshirt at home. She stopped at the door, her face reflected in the brass 108, wondering what to do. She knocked softly, three times, and held her breath. Soon she heard loud, uneven footsteps, and the door opened.

“I didn’t want to ring the  bell,” she apologized.

“No, that was smart.” Regina looked up, sheepishly, leaning on the doorframe for support. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Can you walk?”

Regina shook her head. “I hopped over,” she grimaced. “Come in.”

Emma stepped into the large foyer and right into the woman’s personal space: “Put your arms around my neck.”

The brunette wordlessly complied and was quickly lifted into strong arms, a gasp escaping Regina’s lips at the sudden movement — and the thrill of being held by Emma again.

“Nice digs,” she smirked, lips so close to Regina’s she could smell the wine on her breath. “Is there a docent to show me around or is the tour self-guided?”

“Hush.” Using the arm not wrapped around Emma’s neck, she gently swatted her ride on the shoulder.  
  
“Really, damsel? I come to rescue you and you assault me?” Emma’s green eyes were bright as she leaned over, and running on instinct — and without thought — she pecked Regina on the forehead. “Where...do I take you, m’lady?” she stuttered, realizing what she had done.

“Straight, then left...ow!” Her calf muscle decided right then it was a great time to remind the pair why the house call was needed. She hissed and tried flexing her foot. “Goddammit.”

She gently laid Regina on her couch, ensuring her legs were straight. Dropping her keys and phone on the coffee table, she pulled off her hoodie, momentarily exposing defined abs and a white sports bra as her T-shirt was caught up when she shed the outer layer. The sight took Regina’s mind off her pain, temporarily: proud breasts, those gorgeous abs, and a plain raspberry colored T-shirt that hugged her torso just so.

“OK, I’m going to poke around and see what’s what.” Hands poised at Regina’s ankle, she looked up for permission to proceed. Regina nodded, and Emma slowly pushed up the brunette’s soft grey pant leg. What followed were long, strong fingers that expertly mapped the limb, the sensation so strong, arousal began to overtake discomfort.

“Wow, big knot here.” Emma gently pressed down on the soleus. “I’m going to press a little harder, tell me if this hurts.”

“Ah! Right there! Stop!” Emma squinted in sympathy as she watched that beautiful face contort in anguish.

“OK. I’d like to try to loosen this up for you and relieve the pain. It’s going to hurt a bit at first, but I can make it go away.”

Regina nodded. “Alright.”

“Wait, first. Let me get you some water...where’s the kitchen?”

“Past the foyer, to the right of the stairs. Glasses are in the cabinets to the right of the sink.”

Emma nodded. “Henry’s asleep, right? I don’t want to, uh, wake him.” _Or run into him._

“His bedroom is upstairs. Unless you break all my glasses at once, I think you’re good.”

Emma left, leaving Regina to assess the situation. She was in yoga pants and a T-shirt, braless, on her couch. Her groin was warm and getting warmer, and the movement of Emma’s fingers on her aching calf made her nipples, thankfully somewhat obscured by the baggy shirt, rock hard. This experience was hurting her in more ways than one.

“OK,” Emma announced quietly, trying to walk softly. “Drink this.” She handed over a large glass of water, which the brunette accepted and began to drink. “Many times, cramps are caused by dehydration. Did you drink enough water at the class today?”

Regina nodded, still drinking. Emma eyed the empty wine glass on the coffee table. It was standing next to the cordless phone. _Is there where she sits when we talk?_ “How many glasses of wine did you have tonight?”

“Two. Is that a problem, officer?” Regina snarked, one eyebrow arching.

“No, _ma’am_ , _”_ Emma replied with a grin. “It’s just alcohol further dehydrates, stealing precious water from your probably overworked muscles, which were expertly put through their paces by a stunning fitness professional today.”

“That’s true,” she noted, setting the now-empty water glass on the coffee table. “Ruby was amazing.”

“Oh, my god.” Emma snorted. “Are you fresh tonight! Maybe I should leave, and you and your cramp can call Ruby for a house call?”

Emma pretended to rise and leave only to have Regina grab her hand and squeeze gently. “I’m kidding, please stay.”

She sat once more with a comic pout. “Fine. Please turn over on your stomach. It’s the easiest way for me to reach the muscle.”

With Regina in place, Emma placed her palms on either side of the affected area, and began gently, rhythmically, rubbing the muscle with her thumbs. The circular patterns started small and expanded, only to shrink again and repeat. Soon, she began to dig her thumbs in specific areas and smoothly stroke the rest.

“This will loosen it up. I know it hurts,” she soothed. She could see Regina trying to gut out the pain as she laid her head to the side, resting on her arms.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. If you were fine, I wouldn’t be here, would I?” Emma’s voice was low and even, almost hypnotic.

 _If I were fine, you_ would _be here,_ Regina told herself.

“Keep breathing and let’s finish our chat. After the class, where’d you find Henry and what did you do?”

Regina exhaled and noticed Emma’s massage was suddenly less painful and more relaxing. The knot was loosening under expert fingertips and the pain subsiding. “Henry was eating the largest mound of cotton candy I’ve ever seen,” she chuckled. “It was disgusting.”

“What? That sounds awesome…”

Emma massaged Regina’s left calf for 20 minutes, then switched to her right. That one was tight but not seized, yet Emma was a firm believer in evening out treatment on both sides. And the fact that she got to touch Regina for another 20 minutes didn’t hurt, either. Emma worked on muscles for a living, rebuilding them, strengthening them. She touched skin and muscle all day, but this, obviously, was different. She didn’t recall spending much time touching Regina’s legs during their previous night together, she was far too enamored of everything above, so she enjoyed the current therapeutic tour on a personal level.

But this experience, their comfortable, easy talk combined with prolonged skin-on-skin contact, made Emma’s itch to inch her fingers north, expanding the treatment area. She imagined gliding her warm hands effortlessly to firm things in smooth, hard circles, then moving inward where she remembered Regina was ticklish, and sliding into wet warmth where she was, at least one night, very welcome.

“Are you falling asleep?” Emma teased during a lull in the conversation. She was nearly done with her ministrations and wanted to lengthen the evening. Regina’s chest was rising and falling quietly, her eyes were closed, and her pressed lips were set in a happy line.

“No,” came the husky reply. “But I could, this feels amazing.”

“More amazing than Ruby?”

A muffled snort rose from the other end of the couch. “You’re a sensitive soul,” Regina smiled, rising up on her forearms and looked back at her friend.

“That is true.” She stopped and sighed. “Ms. Mills, I believe you will live, if you want to sit up.” Emma lowered both pant legs and slowly ran the heels of her palms down Regina’s calves, providing one last wave of pressure.

Regina carefully sat up, and when she did was within 6 inches of her PT. Forty minutes of Emma’s hands on her legs left her aroused, hypersensitive, and her sex so slippery she was sure her underpants were damp and dark.

Stimulated and boneless below the knees, words failed her. All Regina could offer was a weak, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Emma breathed back, a goofy smile on her smile.

They stared at each other for 2 seconds, then lunged simultaneously, lips meeting hungrily, hands grasping hair, shoulders, whatever they could touch. Sucking on Regina’s lips and tongue, Emma carefully maneuvered the woman onto her lap. “Your leg OK?”

“Yes,” she panted, separating long enough only to eek out one syllable. She didn’t care if it were about to fall off, she wasn’t moving from this spot. Ravenous, they practically devoured each other, as if to make up for the weeks they were unable to touch. The air was thick with warmth and heavy breathing, an occasional gasp, and quiet, throaty moans. Convinced the other was not going to disappear or call a halt to their affection, the couple instinctively slowed their pace slowed from frantic to deliberate.

Anchoring her hand in black hair, Emma slowly pulled Regina’s head back and held it taut, peppering an inviting neck with long, soft, slow, open-mouthed wet kisses. Regina took Emma’s left hand and guided her index and middle fingers into her mouth, laving them with her tongue. She needed to put her mouth on anything Emma, and that was all she could reach.

“Jesus Christ,” Regina whimpered. Her sex throbbing and red-hot, Regina carefully hooked her legs around Emma’s lower back and began to grind on her lap in search of any friction. Her thin pants offered little resistance against the stiff button fly front seam of Emma’s jeans, providing relief. “Unh...unh….unh...” she panted as she rubbed herself on Emma’s crotch, chasing release.

“Wait!” Emma pulled her lips off the now-wet neck when she realized what was going on and placed her hands on frantic hips, stilling them. ”Hold on, baby, wait.”

Nearly feral, Regina’s heart hammered as she tried to catch her breath. “You don’t want this?” she whimpered.

Emma didn’t know if she should laugh or cry, she felt like doing both simultaneously. “God, I want this — I want _you_ — more than anything. I’ve never wanted anything more. But I—”

“—Can’t we just have tonight?” Regina winced, her words a mix of breathy and whiney.

“That sounds familiar.”

“Please? No one will know. We’re discrete.”

Half of Emma’s brain begged her to stop, warning that another taste of this woman, someone she could not have, would make her longing even worse by an untold magnitude. The other half, mostly her lower half, screamed that she was the biggest fucking idiot in the universe to question this for even a millisecond.

“What about Henry?”

“He’s asleep. I’ll lock my bedroom door. We’ll be quiet.” Regina was whispering in near frenzied desperation, her voice dropping lower on the last word.

“Are you _sure_?”

Emboldened, Regina took Emma’s left hand and slid it into her warm, wet pants.

Emma’s eyes blew wide. “God, you’re soaked!” She had never felt a woman so wet for her before.

“You had your hands on me for 40 minutes. What did you expect?”

“That’s not why I came here. I wasn’t trying to—”

“I know, darling,” she leaned in and tried to calm herself, sweetly kissing Emma on the lips. “I know. You came because I was in pain and you’re so caring.”

Emma nodded dumbly. “Right.”

Leaning in, Regina placed her hands on either side of Emma’s face and rested her forehead against the blonde’s.

“I understand your parameters,” she husked. “I respect them. _But,_ why can’t we have another night, when we so obviously make each other happy?”

Holding Regina’s gaze, Emma removed her hand from the brunette’s pants, sucked wet fingers into her mouth, and then leaned in to kiss the woman once more, slowly, deeply. She rose, and offering her right hand to Regina, pulled the woman to her feet: “Lead the way.”

***

The pair quietly ascended the staircase. Regina went first, leaving Emma out of sight on the first landing in case Henry was in her bedroom or wandering. She found him fast asleep in his own bed — thank God — then waved for Emma to finish her trip to the second floor. Trying to be as noiseless as possible, they scurried to the master bedroom, Regina locking the door with a soft click.

“There’s a bathroom,” Regina whispered, pointing to the open door on the left, “if you need it.”

“I feel like I’m sneaking a girl into Granny’s,” Emma chuckled quietly as she stripped, clothes landing with a soft thud.

Regina pulled off her pajamas, leaving her deliciously naked, and locked eyes with Emma as she strode into her arms. “Did you do that often?” A sculpted eyebrow raised while lips curled at a corner.

“Couple of times, but they had to be quiet.” Emma leisurely ran the backs of her hands down Regina’s torso, until the reached the juncture of trim thighs. Two fingers stroked and glided around her damp groin, touching here, stroking there, teasing every area except her clit. “And for some reason, girls could not stay quiet in my bed.”

“I have to stay quiet,” Regina husked, mouth open, eyes closed in concentration, trying to will Emma’s fingers to where she needed them. She had to wrap her arms around Emma’s neck to keep herself upright as she battled overwhelming sensations.

“You do.” Emma’s tone was low and confident as she continued her methodical stroking. She leaned in and began whispering into Regina’s ear. “But can you? I won’t go easy,” she tittered, giving the engorged bundle of nerves a quick rub. She was rewarded with a gasp followed by a moan. “Ssshhh, ssshhhh, naughty girl. I don’t think you can…”

Regina loved this side of Emma, a women was normally was unassuming, humble, and almost goofy. But on the dance floor, and in the bedroom, she reeked bravado, command, and pure sex, a combination Regina realized she craved like air.

Emma gradually removed her fingers and wiped them on Regina’s nipples, lowering her head to clean them off with her tongue. For someone who was unsure about this endeavor 10 minutes ago, the woman had quickly embraced her role. If she was going to do this, and live with the guilt and longing afterwards, she sure as hell was going to do it right.

“Emma, I need the bed,” she mewled.

Releasing a breast with a pop, Emma stepped out of Regina’s grip, crawled onto the bed, and laid back, crooking her right index finger slowly with a ferocious grin. The brunette practically dove on top of her and they connected head to toe, exquisitely bare as they kissed languidly. The pace quickly sped up as legs separated and scissored, slick centers grinding into each other in search of resistance and release.

“Wait…”

“What?” cried Regina in a mix of desperation and annoyance.

Devilish grin on her face, Emma curled her fingers and beckoned her partner north. “Get up here,” she husked. “Show me how you move those hips. I know you can.”

Suddenly, Regina wasn’t so upset. She pecked her partner on the lips, then sat up on her knees, slowly dragged her slippery sex up Emma’s torso, and grabbed her headboard lowering herself to smiling lips.

“Mmmmm,” Emma hummed enthusiastically into hot flesh, using her teeth and tongue to excite her lover beyond all reason and into pure instinct. She kneaded Regina’s firm ass as hips began to roll above her, accompanied by pants and moans the brunette was trying to swallow. The incredible feelings were engulfing her and the need to keep as quiet as possible was like throwing gas on an out of control fire. The more she tried to stay quiet, the more she wanted to scream as loud as she could.

“I...I’m close….Emma…”

The blonde moaned and hummed in encouragement, sending delicious vibrations into red-hot nerves, pushing Regina over the edge as she white-knuckled her headboard and pumped her hips. She stilled, riding out an enormous wave of pleasure, mouth open in a silent scream, while Emma shook her head and doubled down her efforts, sending her lover over the peak once more. The only sounds were Regina trying to choke down moans of pure release and slick sounds of Emma’s tongue continuing its assault on willing flesh.

“Emma…” Regina panted quietly, releasing her death grip on the headboard, and lifting off her partner. She collapsed to the blonde’s side with a dazed expression and found Emma sporting a shiny, huge grin.

“Who’s your favorite fitness instructor now?” she challenged softly, as she rolled on top of Regina and kissed her deeply.

Sated, all Regina could do was hum happily and prepare to return the favor.

***

It was a lazy, laid-back Sunday morning for mother and son. Regina cooked cinnamon buns, their seventh-day staple, then read the Sunday paper on the couch as Henry alternated between action figures and an iPad. But the woman’s reading comprehension was low, as all she could think about was the previous 12 hours.

It had been a long, active, enlightening night.

Initial orgasms out of the way, the pair talked and lounged in each other’s arms, much like their first night. But the tone was different; now they were two people who knew each other well, and the familiarity bred comfort, calm, and deep affection. Talking still led to kissing, which moved to groping, which led to love making. Gone was the rush of that first night, the furious, hardcore fucking in hopes of wringing every last ounce of pleasure of each other. No, now their time in bed was laughing, loving, and languid, tender and thorough. They took time to discuss preferences and dislikes, trying out one and avoiding the other. Emma showed Regina where her teeth had literally left an impression that took weeks to vanish. (“I was wondering why you were wearing T-shirts to class,” the brunette laughed.) Their pace slowed, leading to gentle exploration of each other and deep, intense orgasms that singed their bodies and blew their minds. Emma was on the cusp of such when she looked down and caught Regina’s brown eyes, demanding yet tender, watching a fair face while working between strong thighs. The gaze, as much as tongue and fingers, sent Emma flying, white-hot pinpricks bursting behind her eyelids.

“Oh, God!” Emma grunted, muscles tight in orgasmic splendor. She felt Regina wipe her mouth on her thigh and shift on top of her, a wicked smile and bright white teeth gleaming in the low light.

Regina placed her palms on either side of Emma’s face, and the blonde followed suit. They simply stared at each other, drinking each other in, incredulous that they were here, now.

“Emma,” Regina breathed, pecking her softly. “I love you.”

The words tumbled out naturally, unexpectedly, and Regina didn’t care. She knew she wasn’t supposed to love this woman, but she did, and dammit, it needed to be said. They had danced around each other for months and couldn’t deny or fight their feelings. This was happening — hell, it had happened — and it was real.

Green eyes expanded, just a touch, then softened, deep and warm. An enormous smile broke across Emma’s face as she flipped her partner onto her back. Anchoring her hands in thick, black hair, Emma groaned in approval, her tongue softly making its way into Regina’s mouth as she tasted herself.

 _Well,_ that _changes everything,_ Emma thought as she enjoyed enthusiastic, deep kisses. She wanted to blurt out the automatic response, it was rooted in her heart, it had been for months. And, for the first time ever, Emma Swan knew what it felt like to be in love. But this was too new, too real, and too important to fuck up. Emma had way too much on her plate in the next two weeks to push all her chips to the center of the table — at least right now. Out straight juggling work and extra shifts and duties at the studio, with recital just two weeks away, this had to wait, just a bit. She wanted to take her time and do it right. She would figure it all out — with Regina.

If the brunette was upset, it didn’t show. She smiled, cuddled and loved, and Emma reciprocated in kind, nuzzling her, stroking her hair, and doing everything she could, short of choking out three syllables, to show it. Emma wedged a thigh between Regina’s legs, determined to show her how much. And, boy, did she.

They fell asleep nearly on top of each other, only to be awakened a few hours later by the low, persistent buzz from a phone on the nightstand. They had agreed sneaking Emma out early was the best way to avoid running into a 5-year-old who would love to brag to anyone who would listen that his dance teacher slept over.

“Love you.” Declaring it once, Regina felt free to state it again. She wasn’t trying to rush Emma, and she knew deep in her heart the woman loved her back. Emma dipped her head, suddenly bashful. Regina didn’t rush her or prod, and when Emma looked up her eyes were tender and moist. Her heart squeezed at the incredible change she saw in Emma: confident, cocky lover one moment, meek, bashful, and lovestruck the next.

“I know,” she breathed, pulling Regina into her arms and holding her so tight, it was if she was worried the brunette would evaporate before her eyes. She felt Emma tremble slightly. “Regina…”

“Shhh,” she soothed, pulling back to rest her cheek against Emma’s. “I know.” She rubbed soft circles on a strong back. “I know.” She did, instinctively understanding this was all new to her lover — she got it. She had thought about Emma and the unique blurred lines of her personal and professional lives for months. Emma didn’t have to utter “I love you” immediately because she showed it all night long — and had for weeks.

“Now, go get some more sleep and call me later,” she commanded in a smoky, way-too-early-Sunday-morning voice.

“Yes, and I can’t wait.”

All Emma wanted, more than anything, was to head back to bed with this caring woman and spend a lazy day wrapped in each other. But she did need more sleep, that hazy, overtired ache was starting to gnaw at her body and mind, and Regina was not in the position to explain to her son why his dance teacher was in his mother’s bed. Not yet.

Regina unlocked the front door as Emma moved to the threshold, grabbing one hand and kissing the brunette’s knuckles one last time, already missing the feel of her skin and wondering when she’d get to caress it again. Door open, Emma could hear a loud chorus of nearby spring peepers chirping away in the predawn grey, as warm orange light threatened on the horizon.

“OK, I”m going,” she announced wobbly, thinking if she said it, she could actually move her feet out the door. “Bye.”

Regina leaned in, the v in her cotton robe gaping a bit as Emma grabbed one final peck — and peek. “Stop trying to look down by robe,” she giggled, gently stiff-arming the blonde out the door.

Emma smiled wide, sauntering backwards on the brick walkway. “Can’t help it,” she smiled, wide, arms out to the sides. “Hell of a view.”

***

“Where are you?” Don sat in the adirondack chair aside Regina’s and handed over a gin and tonic, fizzy and tart, and a kiss on her cheek, which was sweet.

Regina took the drink and gestured, arms out, palms up. “In your well-appointed faux English garden, of course. Dan’s obsession with BBC America is paying off nicely.” The May sun was slowly sinking on a late Sunday afternoon. The air was warm and carried with it the fragrance of blooming flowers and the promise warm summer days just within reach.

“OK, then. Who are you with?” He smirked and tapped his temple, which caused Regina to drop her head and grin.

“That obvious, huh?”

“To very smart people who have known you for a long time, yes.”

Regina raised her glass in tribute then sipped. “Your talents are wasted in corporate law.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

They sat quietly for a few minutes, watching Dan and Henry pass a soccer ball, which Pearl chased with mad abandon. Regina knew this was one of her friend’s singular talents, he didn’t feel the need to fill silence. He let her sit, quietly and without pressure, until she was ready to talk.

“I’m in love with someone I can’t have,” she declared. “Not fully.”

“Do tell.” Of all the things he suspected could be bothering his friend, this was not one of them. Regina Mills fell in love with her son, not other women. She liked them. She enjoyed their company. But she didn’t love them. Until, apparently, now.

“Henry’s dance teacher.”

“Wow, I did not expect that.”

She exhaled. “Nor did I.” Fortified by half a gin and tonic, she sighed and explained the past 6 months.

“...And now I’m stuck in this awful limbo. I love her, I’m sure she loves me, but we can’t be together.”

“So she hasn’t said she loves you.”

“No, but I know she does, she’s shown it in every other way.”

He believed her, the woman was an excellent judge of character and behavior. She turned her head to the front once more and continued watching the animal and human racket unfolding in front of her. “What do I do?”

Don patted her hand. “It’s not up to you, from what I can tell. She can’t just up and leave the studio?”

“Not right now, the recital is in two weeks. She could after, but it has to be her decision. If I push her to potentially abandon, at least professionally, the only family she’s ever known, I worry she’d come to resent me later. And I don’t know Eugenia at all, so I have no idea how she’d handle Emma leaving. Would she see it as another betrayal or Emma going after a new life? I just don’t know.”

“I understand Emma’s reasons, they’re noble — far more than I’d be in that situation, I think. Maybe things will change after the season is over?”

“But what if they don’t?”

“Well,” he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, “It’s a risk, for sure.”

“I don’t want to lose her friendship, but I’m at the point where I can’t be just friends.” She gestured at the laughing chaos ricocheting around the backyard. “I want this. I want a family...a partner.”

“A wife?”

Regina nodded. “Yes.”

Blue-grey eyes expanded behind thin silver frames. “Damn, I’ve never heard you say that before.”

“I never wanted it before. Now...it’s all I can think of.” She took in Don’s stunned face and continued. “I’m not saying I’m ring shopping tomorrow, but someday...I’d like to.” She felt her throat tightening. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

“Does Emma want that?”

“I don’t know. I think so?” She flashed back to the previous night. Emma laid her life as bare as her body, sharing stories of her time in foster care and growing up, essentially on her own. It was obvious the concept of family, love, and belonging was important to the woman, but also a huge, cavernous hole filled with painful, conflicting emotions. It was something she valued highly, but was also terrified to want — and potentially lose — again.

“I can’t ask her to choose between the only family she’s ever known and me.”

Regina’s statement hung in the air, there was no easy answer.

“Do you have a picture?”

With a sly smile, she took out her phone, pulled up the picture Kathryn took after the fundraiser, and handed it over. “Courtesy of Kathryn,” she chuckled.

“Well, really, who else?” he smiled, then took the phone. A low whistle erupted from his lips.

“Whoa, she’s incredible.” He looked up at Regina. “You two would be the most stunning couple I’ve ever seen.”

“She’s more beautiful inside,” Regina assured, taking the phone back and staring at the picture with a serene smile.

Don watched his friend and shook his head. “God, you two need to get a chance. Want to sue the studio? Alienation of affection?”

Regina barked out a short, sharp laugh. “I wish!”

Scooting his chair closer to Regina’s, he draped an arm across the brunette’s shoulders. “It’ll work out, dear. Have some faith.”

They sat quietly again, watching Henry almost kick the ball over the fence, which elicited a squeal of fright from the child. “Does Kathryn know?”

Kathryn was Regina’s oldest and dearest friend. She loved Kathryn more than anything, and Kathryn would certainly do anything for her, but confiding this didn’t seem like the right move.

“No, I can’t.”

He nodded in understanding. “Though she does probably know how to get rid of a body, if you wanted the old lady out of the picture,” he noted wryly.

“You’re awful.” Regina lightly smacked his thigh, then curled into his shoulder. “Though, you’re probably also right…”

***

The following three days were a blur. Emma was jammed between always-demanding work and the currently even-more-demanding studio. Along with the last week of classes, she was at the studio every night, helping Granny and the staff prep for the recital. Show order for each of the three recitals was finalized, the program proofed, music loaded, and props in their final stages of production and painting. Over the weekend, they’d rent a U-Haul and transport props and all the backstage gear to the high school auditorium in prep for the following week’s dress rehearsals and shows.

The only sanity in the mayhem were late-night calls from a certain stunning brunette. Emma longed for them like sunshine, and they brought joy and happiness into her crazy days. Handling a difficult patient or recital snag didn’t get her down as usual; all she had to do was think about was the fact that her phone would ring that night, and the pressure and stress was overshadowed by almost overwhelming happiness.

Regina had taken to beginning her calls with, “Hello, sweetheart…” a development said sweetheart adored. Just hearing those two words roll out huskily from delicious lips was like a balm on her soul. Regina had backed off on the “I love yous” temporarily. The greeting was enough, she decided, to remind Emma that she was loved without pressuring her during a time in which she already had plenty.

“I can’t believe it was our last class today,” Regina noted, a touch of sadness in her voice.

“I know, the end of the year is always bittersweet.” Emma had her legs propped up on her coffee table, a Bravo catfight quietly wailing away in the background. “You’re ready, the kids are ready, everyone is ready to be done with classes. But, then, they’re done. At least you guys get to come back in the fall. I have 5 seniors I have to say goodbye to. I’ve been teaching them since they were 8.” Regina’s heart warmed at the tenderness in the blonde’s voice. “Just don’t make fun of me at recital, I always cry at the end like a big baby.”

“Oh, honey, that is so sweet.”

“No, it’s not. I’m a big, mushy loser.” She took a sip of water and cleared her throat. “But, you will get to see me in a dress.”

“What? Do tell…”

“So, after the show is over, the kids all come onstage class by class for their bows and curtain call. Granny introduces the teachers, then we come out onstage, then the seniors. Then I cry. Anyway, all the teachers wear something nice.” She chuckled at the truth she just realized: “It’s one of the only times I wear a dress all year.”

“Well, suddenly I’m looking even more forward to the show.”

“You should be,” Emma noted, pride evident in her voice. “You should be.”

***

But another call, on Thursday, changed everything. Emma and Ruby had an understanding — during work hours, no phone calls. Both had professions in which they had a specific limited amount of time with patients/clients, and that time was for that person and not themselves. Calls — or texts — were reserved for after 3 p.m. So when Emma found a 1 p.m. text from Ruby bearing just three numbers — 911 — her heart lodged in her throat. Sprinting for the breakroom, she dialed Ruby’s number, panic rising when she heard her friend’s anxious, high-pitched, breathless: “Emma!”

“What?”

“Granny’s in the ER!”

**TBC**


	11. Chapter 11

A chill ran up Emma’s spine as she felt the weight of Ruby’s panicked words smack her like a blistering January wind. Wobbly, she leaned against a wall. “What?!?” she croaked, her throat already tight, breath short.

“She’s at Beth Israel. Barbara stopped by, found her on the floor in the dining room. They think she had a heart attack. I don’t know what’s going on, they’ve got me sitting here, and I don’t know what to do and....”

“Are you in the ER?”

“Yeah.”

“Stay put — I’ll be there in 30. Hold on!”

Emma ran straight to the director’s office and asked to be let go for the day. A model employee who rarely asked for anything special, she was granted the time off immediately, her patients reassigned. “Take tomorrow, too,” he said, giving her a sympathetic nod. “Call if you need anything. I mean it.”

Emma threw a quick “Thank you!” over her shoulder as she raced out the door, destined for Boston. A half-hour later, she sprinted into the ER and found Ruby in a corner. The thin woman looked pale and drawn, face splotchy from crying.

“Hey….” she reassured, pulling her into her arms and rubbing her back. “You’re OK.” Ruby tucked her head into Emma’s neck and held on for a couple of minutes; Emma continuing to soothe until Ruby stopped shaking.

“I fucking hate these places,” Ruby sniffed, wiping her eyes with the heels of her hands.

“You’re not alone,” Emma assured. She assessed the room, full of sick people or those worried about them. Emotions ran high and the air was heavy with a mix of standard hospital disinfectant and the everyday smells of the swath of humanity that found themselves on unforgiving hard chairs in a too-small space with no windows and shitty ventilation. “I know, babe.”

They sat and Emma wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “What’s the latest?”

Ruby exhaled loudly. “Mild heart attack,” the attending says. “Thank God, Barbara has a key and let herself in when she saw Granny’s car and no one answered the door or her cell. Granny was semi-conscious, and Barbara called 911 so quickly, the paramedics were there in no time, so she didn’t lose any oxygen to her brain, they think. They gotta wait and see.”

“Has she been moved upstairs yet?”

“Yeah. They’re getting her settled and said they’ll let us know when we can go up.”

Emma’s gaze was briefly pulled to one of the TVs hanging from the ceiling and the rapid-fire, spastic graphics and ominous music of the upcoming 4 o’clock news. A thought blared in her head: “Whoa, shit! Who’s at the studio?”

“Don’t worry about it. I called Wendy. She opened up and basically left a note saying the desk was closed today. I texted the staff and let them know what was up. Whoever’s out last will lock up.”

“OK, good.” Moving her arm from around Ruby’s shoulders to her thigh, rubbing gently. “You OK?”

“Yeah, I guess. I’ll feel better when we get up there and see her.”

“Be careful what you wish for. With recital this weekend, she’s probably already got a laundry list of shit she wants us to do — in addition to everything we’re already doing.” Emma chuckled at her private vision. “They’ll be trying to run IVs and take her BP, and she’ll be bitching at them to get out of the way because she hasn’t set the music order.”

“True,” Ruby chuckled. “True.” She pulled out her phone and began replying to texts, her phone still blowing up and buzzing steadily with incoming messages. Ruby occupied, Emma’s mind was left to wander in a bad neighborhood. Granny was 78. Although she was in relatively good health, today notwithstanding, she never stopped moving, which was good and bad. Working in the medical field, Emma knew all too well how life could turn on a dime. Luckily, this turn was not — at least right now — too bad. Closing her eyes, she inhaled slowly, then exhaled smoothly, trying to focus on the present and rein in her wild thoughts. The ER put her on edge like nobody’s business. The combination of desperate people, raised voices, and the automatic door sliding open with a harsh bang every 30 seconds made her anxious.

She felt Ruby squeeze her hand: “Mindfulness?”

“Mmmm hmmmm.” The pair taken a one-night seminar on it a year earlier, thinking it could help their competitive dancers stave off worry and focus before a performance. “Good girl, Em.”

“You should try it,” she replied evenly, lids closed.

She heard her friend scoff. “I’m gonna try some of Granny’s Bushmills when I get home.”

***

When Regina called later that evening, Emma was in the shower and missed it. Once home, she practically sprinted into the shower and cranked the spray hot and hard, trying to rub off the harsh, antiseptic miasma of the hospital. While she worked in a rehab, whatever they used there didn’t resemble the mass-industrial hospital funk that buried itself into every fiber and pore of the souls who walked through the doors. Scrubbed clean and hair wet, Emma threw on sweats and a T, then noticed the missed call alert and a text.

 

**9:15 p.m.**

**Sarah**

**I heard about Eugenia. Emma, please call or text. I’m sure you’re exhausted and probably still at the hospital, but please let me know you’re OK, whenever you can, whatever the hour. I’m so worried about you, sweetheart. If you haven’t gone home yet, please come over. I can make you something to eat.**

 

Skin still warm and red from the hot water, Emma sat on the couch, read the text a third time, and tried to decide what to do. She was exhausted, boneless, and, she realized, hungry.  The pit of anxiety that had gnawed at her stomach all day had transformed into a gaping maw of hunger just reading the work “eat.” And, amazingly, someone in the universe cared about that. Normally, she’d automatically defer: _Don’t worry, I’m fine. I have food here._ Yet someone cared about her in a 9:15-and-I’ll-make-you-dinner way. Granny and Ruby cared about her, sure. She had friends at work who would be worried or concerned, and they had been texting her all day asking about her state, needs, and Granny’s condition. But no one — no one — reached out quite like Regina. And that is when Emma realized everything needed to change. She was ready. It was time.

A wave of warmth and happiness clutched her heart as she texted back:

_I just got out of the shower. Want to call?_

**Come over, I’ll make you dinner.** **I made meatballs and sauce. I have plenty. By the time you get here, I'll have a plate ready.**

Emma was typing her reply when another message popped up. She could practically hear Regina say it, imaging a sheepish tone and big brown eyes averting her own.

**But if you’re too tired, I understand. I could drop off something tomorrow. But please promise me you will eat. You’re no good to Eugenia rundown.**

_I’m coming over. Thank you._

**Good! I’ll start the oven… :-)**

Emma set a land speed record towel-drying her hair, pulling it back into a utilitarian ponytail, and throwing on a sports bra and tank. Grabbing her keys and phone, she jogged out the door, a smile on her face and hope in her heart.

***

Regina had the door open before Emma could even reach for the knob, then launched herself into the blonde’s arms, hugging her tight. Emma hugged back in equal measure and laid her head on Regina’s when she tucked it into the blonde’s shoulder. Regina relished the contact, Emma felt so strong and so soft at the same time, and smelled clean and fresh from her shower.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” she breathed.

“Better now. And even better when I can eat whatever I smell.”

Regina released her hold, grabbed Emma’s hand proprietarily, and pulled her toward the kitchen. “Spaghetti and meatballs. Not haute cuisine, but—”

“—Do I look like a gourmand?” Emma chuckled.

“You look hungry.”

“Because I am.” She let go of Regina’s hand with a quick squeeze. “Heyyyyy,” she drawled. “ _That’s_ where my sweatshirt went!”

Regina blushed to her roots, busted. “You left it here last time and I couldn’t bring it back when—”

Chuckling, Emma pulled the woman into another hug. “It’s fine, I’m teasing,” she smiled proudly. _She’s wearing my sweatshirt!_ “You look so cute.” The soft, pale green Cape Cod hoodie was adorably oversized on the woman, ending at mid-thigh; it was big on Emma, which made it even larger on the brunette. “Mmmm, it smells like you, too.”

A touch embarrassed at getting caught, her pride kept her from confessing that she slept in it every night; it had quickly become her favorite at-home piece of clothing. “I’ll make sure I don’t leave my letterman jacket here next time.”

Regina smirked and gently pushed Emma into a seat at the kitchen island. “I never got a chance to tell you what a nice setup you have here,” Emma noted. The kitchen was spacious and sleek, yet homey, and the stainless steel refrigerator doubled as a gallery of kindergarten artwork, school papers, and notices home.

“Are those Henry originals?”

“They are,” Regina smiled, placing a large plate of pasta, meatballs, and sauce on the table. A small salad and a glass of water quickly appeared next to it.

“God, Regina,” she sighed, loading up a fork. “I can’t thank you enough.” The food quickly made its way into Emma’s mouth, from which came a low, sultry groan that made Regina’s eyes pop. “This is…” she stopped to inhale another bite, “...amazing.”

Regina returned with two glasses of wine. “Glad you like it. And I drank plenty of water today,” she noted, toasting Emma with her wine glass and setting one in front of her guest.

Emma covered her mouth, trying to stifle a barking laugh so it didn’t reach a sleeping Henry one floor above. “Good girl,” she chuckled. “Proud of you. Wouldn’t want you to cramp up...actually…” She raised an eyebrow while she chewed, trying to look sultry and swallow her food.

“Hush, you. How’s Eugenia?” Regina would never forget reading the message from the ever-plugged-in Sue Walker, and the one and only thought that followed, blaring through her head like a klaxon: **_EmmaEmmaEmmaEmmaEmma._ **

That woman in question spent the next 20 minutes trying to eat politely and still talk, catching Regina up on how the day unfolded, as well as Granny’s condition. She steadily made her way through all her food and drink. “She’ll probably be in for maybe one more day. Tonight was really just for observation. They’ll continue to monitor her, and if her numbers are good, I’m sure they’ll release her by dinnertime tomorrow. You know how fast they shuffle people out of those beds these days. With a boatload of drugs and many follow-ups, I’m guessing.”

“All things considered, it sounds like she got lucky.”

“Definitely, it could have been much, much worse. If you have to have a heart attack, she somehow did it right. Can’t ask for much more.” She and Ruby had spent three hours in the elder woman’s hospital room and swore she looked worse when she had the flu two years back. Granny spent most of the time telling Ruby not to cry and the rest itemizing her and Emma’s to-do list for dress rehearsals, which were just two days away.

As someone who worked with recovering patients, Emma shuddered at the thought of how bad it could have been. She turned and smiled: “How was your day?”

“Comparatively uneventful.” She stood to pick up Emma’s plates and was intercepted as the blonde stood.

“Let me,” she insisted.

“No,” Regina ordered smoothly, “you sit. You’ve been through enough today. And I like to keep busy.” She began rinsing dishes and loading the dishwasher. “Anyway, not much. Met with a client, did the paperwork on two estate plans, and worked on a will. Pretty standard. Kathryn blew in at the end of the day to harass me, so pretty much a normal day for me.”

“Is she in court?” Regina turned back toward Emma when the last word was distorted thanks to a large yawn. She looked wiped, her eyes fighting to stay alert and interested.

“Yes. She’s happier nowhere else; she gets paid to ruthlessly pick people apart, it’s her calling,” she added, reaching for Emma’s hand. “Come sit with me.”

Emma rose and complied wordlessly, full and happy to be taken care of. It was such a foreign concept, but it felt wonderful. _Is this what it’s like?_ she wondered, as she sat, her body automatically leaning into Regina like two ends of a magnet merging.

“Here,” she soothed, motioning Emma’s head onto her lap. “Just relax.” Emma’s eyes closed without thought and she drifted off in blissful relaxation as she felt Regina gently stroking her hair.

***

Emma woke with a start, caught in the haze of not knowing what time it was or where she was. The lights in the room were low and she was laying on…”Regina?” She felt her “pillow” move and turned, looking up at a brown eyes awakening from sleep. “Hey…” Emma yawned. “God, I’m so sorry, I fell asleep.”

“No worries,” she smiled sleepily. “I did, too.”

Lifting her wrist she saw it was, “2 o’clock? Shit, I’m so sorry!” Emma moved to sit up, only to have Regina place her hand on a firm stomach.

“Stay.”

“What?”

“Stay with me.” Emma sat up and next to Regina, trying to process her words in a sleep-induced fog. “Come upstairs, you can sleep.” She smiled. “Just sleep.”

“What about Henry?”

Regina took Emma’s hand and stroked it slowly with her thumb. She couldn’t stop touching the woman; the need to soothe her, care for her, was uncontrollable. Regina knew this was all miles over their self-imposed line of “just friends” or “just one night.” But, then again, she had willingly erased that line and salted the earth beneath it to boot. She was going to do what felt right and see where it took them. “I always get up before him. You can sleep in, he’ll never even know you’re here.”

“Are you sure?”

Regina rose and offered her hand. “Yes.” Emma took it and was tugged to her feet. “C’mon.” The pair quietly made their way to the second floor, the mood 180 degrees opposite their prior trip up the stairs.

Once in the locked room, Emma removed her shoes and crawled onto the lush bed with an exhausted moan. The sheets were soft and cool, and the down comforter was deliciously heavy, inviting her to curl up under it and rest. “Which side?” She tried to smile through the question, but yawned instead.

“I usually sleep on the left,” came a reply venturing on bashful. This scene was so domestic, like they had done it countless nights before. Two women, getting ready for bed together. Regina had never invited a woman to sleep over since Henry arrived, and even before that it was very rare. Her bedroom was her private sanctuary, and here was a 5’6” sleepy blonde right smack in the center of it. Regina was shocked at how right it felt.

“Regina?” Caught in her internal analysis, she started when she saw Emma lying on her side, smiling at her. “Thank you.” Leaning in, Emma kissed her lightly on the lips, then rolled over, wedging her back against Regina’s. She was too tired to cuddle, but she still wanted to feel the warm, solid weight of the brunette.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

“Regina?”

“Yes?”

Eyes closed, Emma heard the light on the bedside table click off. “Don’t steal my shirt while I’m asleep, OK?”

The blonde drifted off almost immediately, the sound of a soft giggle and the feeling of the body behind her shaking with laughter guiding her as she slid into the dark.

***

Consciousness and confusion broke over Emma, the former slowly, the latter quickly. She woke in a large bed with soft sheets, as brilliant spring sunshine determinedly fought its way around and through infinitesimal gaps in the window shades.

 _Regina,_ her mind supplied as she spied a small framed photo of her and Henry on a bureau. The past 19 hours rushed back, breaking over her brain like a wave at high tide. She rose to use the en suite bathroom, then returned to the bed, spying the clock on the nightstand: 9:42. _Shit. What do I do now?_

Was Henry in school? She had no idea if he had full-day kindergarten or had yet to go in. Her phone was downstairs, along with, perhaps, her student. She didn’t dare crack the door and peek into the hallway, with her dumb luck she’d get caught right away. So she simply lay in bed, surrounded by soft sheets and the smells she’d come to associate with Regina, two of her favorite things, as she reviewed the past 12 hours.

A soft knock pulled her out of her internal debate and drew her attention to the closed bedroom door. “Emma, it’s me.”

She walked over and opened the door, her smile meeting its twin on Regina’s face. “Good morning,” the brunette, still wearing Emma’s sweatshirt, grinned, pecking her sweetly, Emma smiled into kiss. “Come downstairs, I have breakfast ready.”

“Where’s Henry?”

“At school. He’s been gone since 8:15. He doesn’t get back until 3.”

Emma rose and followed Regina out of the bedroom and down the stairs. “Wait, what about work?” Her mind fought through the haze: _Tuesday. It’s Tuesday._

“I called in, told them I was working from home.”

“For me?” Emma stopped on the stairs trying to process this information. Nearly in the kitchen, Regina looked up and caught the genuinely confused expression on the blonde’s face.

“Of course,” she smiled. “Now get down here, your food is getting cold.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The wooden staircase creaked under her bare footfalls. “Thanks for not stealing my shorts.”

“Oh,” a feral grin curled Regina’s lips. “Don’t get cocky. It’s early yet.”

A rolling purr trilled out of Emma’s lips as she grabbed a seat at the kitchen island. Coffee, orange juice, wheat toast, and a ham and cheese omelette was quickly deposited before her.

“Have you thought about leaving law to run a diner?”

Regina sat next to Emma and dug in. “I do love to cook.”

“If I hang out here much longer, I’m gonna zip past two bills in no time.”

Regina grinned, chewed, and swallowed. “More of you to love, dear.”

A short, sharp snort escaped as Emma nudged the brunette with her shoulder. “So, what’s up for you today?”

The pair ate and talked, sipping coffee and finding reasons to touch each other: a hand stroking a forearm here, a foot rubbing against a calf there. Emma was amazed at how natural it all felt, like this was their daily routine, just another Tuesday. The rare times Emma slept over at a lover’s house, she couldn’t wait to escape, dying to slip out unnoticed, but forcing herself to be polite and actually say a farewell, in respect to the woman with whom she had gotten quite intimate with the night before. But this? This was easy, exciting, and felt so right.

Meal consumed, they bused plates and cleaned up the kitchen — together. Regina was drying the last item, a cast iron pan, when she felt Emma’s gaze rest upon her and hold. Green eyes were wide and the truth hit Emma hard and fast. She wanted this. Eating together. Caring for each other. Loading a dishwasher and trying to have quiet sex because a 5-year-old was sleeping two doors away. Life was messy — it would always be messy. People were constantly busy and stressed. But life was also short, and time? Well, Emma finally got it. This was the right time. Right now. The words she never felt connected to, could barely say, the ones that were too always too foreign? She couldn’t have stopped them if her lips were sewn shut.

“I love you,” Emma declared, emphatic and strong. “I love you so fucking much, Regina.”

Shocked, Regina bobbled the pan and nearly dropped it. She set it down with a loud thud onto the stove and stunned, walked slowly into the blonde’s open arms.

The hug was hard and bracing, but nothing compared to the kiss that followed. Emma smiled into it, elated, but the smile soon disappeared as she felt cool moisture on her cheeks.

Pulling out of the kiss she whispered, “Are you OK?” All Regina could do was nod as an ugly cry took over. Sobs ripped out of her throat and her chest rose and fell quickly as she curled into Emma’s strong arms. “Are you sure? I’ve never told anyone I loved them before, and this is way more crying than I expected.”

The joke caused a watery chuckle to bubble up out of Regina’s tight throat. “I always…” she began, trying to get her breath under control. “...I always was an overachiever.” A tearful smile brightened red-rimmed eyes. “I’m just so happy. I was hoping we could be together, but I wasn’t sure it would happen.”

“But, you still love me, too, right?” Emma was trying to tease, to lighten the mood, but Regina could see the ghost of a foster kid and a lifetime of uncertainty just beneath the surface. The brunette pulled back and sniffed, trying to clear excess moisture: “Emma Swan, other than Henry, I have never loved anyone more.”

Emma pulled Regina tight once more, rubbing her back slowly. “Thank God,” Emma sighed.

Suddenly, Regina pulled away with a start. “Oh, my God! What are you going to do about Eugenia?”

“I’ll figure it out after recital.” She shrugged. With her choice suddenly so clear in her mind, gone was the risk and fear of talking to Granny. “I’ll sit her down, talk to her, probably a week or so later; giver her time to decompress. I love teaching. I want to keep teaching. But if Henry wants to dance in the fall and Granny enforces her rule, I won’t be his teacher; I won’t be there. I love Granny. I love the studio. But I have to live my life.” She held Regina’s gaze with the last two words, the intent clear: You are my life.

Regina smiled softly. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” Emma gathered the brunette into her arms once again, addicted to the feel of the petite frame against hers.

Emma soon found herself being pulled toward the stairs as Regina walked backwards. “Henry’s not home,” she began, pulling off the green sweatshirt and whatever she was wearing beneath it. It fell to the floor with a soft thud. “I love you.” She climbed the stairs backwards, pulling Emma with her. “I want you to hear how much.”

***

“What in the hell?” Kathryn hissed, leaning across Dave to snark at Regina. “There are 60,” she lowered her voice further, “ _fucking_ numbers in this show, and Henry is in _one_. And we have to stay for the whole damn thing?”

“Yes,” Regina lectured, as Don tittered beside her. He and Dave sat back, twin smirks on their faces, and enjoyed the show before the show. “Read the program. They ask that everyone stay for the entire thing so the kids in the later numbers aren’t dancing to a near-empty auditorium.” Regina didn’t add the fact that Emma had also explained this all to her the night before.

“Tell that to my ass.” Kathryn pulled out her phone and began occupying herself.

“This is all your fault to begin with,” Regina noted, with more than a hint of karma in her voice.

Eyes still on her phone, an emphatic command ushered forth: “ _Don’t_ remind me.”

Yet Regina knew Kathryn would remind her — insufferably and repeatedly — as soon as she found out Emma was the love of her best friend’s life. And that notification was scheduled to happen in, she subtly glanced at her watch, about 3 hours, when Emma joined them all for dinner. This was a fact her friends beside her did not know, but one she had been arranged with the blonde the night before.  (“ _Where are we going?” Emma hummed over the line. “Eduardo’s.” “Ooh, la, la. No Friendly’s for you people. Good thing I’ll be dressed up.”_ ) Regina thought it would be the perfect time to introduce Emma to everyone, and she knew Henry would be over the moon that his dance teacher would be joining them. The fact that he’d be seeing Emma a lot in the coming days, weeks, and, hell, Regina hoped — a lifetime — they agreed to tackle gently, and not tonight.

“I’ll remind you to please silence your cell phone,” Dave chuckled.

“Silence this,” she tossed back, flipping him off discretely.

Don loved an annoyed Kathryn. To him, nothing was more amusing. “Regina, you told me she took her meds!”

“Don’t wind her up,” Regina urged, “or it’s going to be a long 2 ½ hours.”

“Two and a half fucking hours?” Kathryn whispered. “Jesus Tap Dancing Christ, Regina. You owe me. I want one of those sexy fruit baskets you got Hot Body.” She gestured toward Don and Dave with her thumb. “And I don’t mean these two.”

The men laughed as Kathryn tried to glare at Regina. “ _Tomorrow_.”

Dave continued to chuckle, hearty and loud, the noise still eclipsed by the buzz and hum of the packed house. “Don’t ever change, you lunatic,” he grinned, kissing Kathryn on the cheek. He turned back to say something to Regina and missed the small smile that graced Kathryn’s face.

Mercifully, the house lights dimmed, cutting off what was sure to be an incredibly detailed string of expletives aimed at the man.

“Good evening, and welcome to Step In Time Dance Academy’s 23rd annual recital.” As the crowd applauded loudly, Regina tried to place the voice. _Ruby?_  “We ask you to refrain from any flash photography and please silence your cell phones.” Regina heard Dave snicker, followed by a muffled “Oof!” She wondered what body part Kathryn jammed into the man, and where. “Also, we request you please stay for the duration of this afternoon’s performance, regardless of when your child is finished. The kids have an amazing show planned, and we want you to enjoy it all. So, on behalf of our staff and students, Step In Time presents Recital 2017!”

The house lights were extinguished to the sounds of enthusiastic cheers and clapping, while the stage lights went up, the music started, and the opening number began. In the front row, Emma sat watching the opening and trying hard to concentrate. It was difficult, her mind was ricocheting everywhere, thanks to an exhausting professional week and a life-altering personal one. This Sunday afternoon show was the last of three over the weekend, and Emma was ready. Ready for the show to come and go, ready for the season to end, and ready to start her new life with Regina.

Thanks to recital week, she hadn’t been to Regina’s since Tuesday, and she had only seen the woman in passing at dress rehearsal. And, even then, she didn’t get a chance to talk to her, given the circumstances.They shared a smile, and a short one at that due to the setting and the fact Emma was running number after number as quickly as she could to keep dress on time and the kids focused. Wearing a headset to communicate with the lighting and sound room and holding a clipboard, she smiled at Regina and hoped no one could diagnose the overflowing love she felt for the woman. They talked nightly, it remained the highlight of her day, but Emma had immediately become addicted to touching the brunette. Once Emma allowed her feelings to break through her self-imposed dam, they rushed powerful, strong, and constant.

Emma was lost in thought, ruminating just how and where she wanted to touch the woman, when she felt Ruby elbow her from the right. “Hey, wake up. You’re up next.”

She nodded and glanced at the program; she could see her 8-year-old hip hop class in the wings and she dashed off a quick wave. _Get your head in the game!_ she told herself. Up until age 9, teachers sat on a milk carton discreetly tucked at the foot of the stage and mimed the dance to help the younger kids get through it. The lights, the stage, and the vast, gigantic dark unfurling in front of them could unnerve even the most confident little dancer. A little teacher mime in the dark didn’t hurt anyone and helped if any dancer froze and forgot their next move. She looked up at the little faces peering out: some excited, some unsure. She would miss this if she had to give it up, but she would miss Regina more. The decision had become easy. Lips set contentedly, she reviewed the dance in her head and prepared to make her move to the milk carton as the dancers on stage hit their end pose and the audience erupted in claps once more.

Eventually the show hit the halfway mark, creeping too slowly toward Henry’s number for Regina’s liking. But, finally, Wednesday Mini Hip Hop was up next. Her anticipation was killing her as the current number ended and the students walked offstage. She couldn’t wait, and Emma’s predictions only made it worse. (“ _You’re going to lose it,” Emma laughed heartily over the phone earlier in the week. “Seriously, he’s so cute — the whole class is pretty great. But he’s got some great stage presence. He really seems to like it.”_ )

She spied a shadow she assumed was Emma sneaking onto the “seat” below the stage as the tiny dancers walked on stage and get in their opening poses. The crowd practically squealed proving, as Emma told her, that little ones could simply walk on stage, do nothing, and they’d still get the largest round of applause for the night. The 5 girls and 3 boys were dressed in shiny purple, drop-crotch hip-hop pants, matching purple short-sleeved Ts and shiny black sleeveless vests accented with faux silver fastenings. They wore black high-top hip-hop sneakers on their feet and bedazzled purple fingerless gloves that caught the lights and sparkled with abandon. The girls had their hair in high pony tails while they boys’ locks were spiked and stiff in the front  with hair gel. Regina had to be talked into the latter, but she admitted Henry looked awfully cute. He, of course, loved it and begged for it to become a regular occurrence.

“That’s an everyday outfit right there,” Kathryn scoffed.

The music began, funky and loud, with “It Takes Two” by Rob Base & DJ E-Z Rock, as the kids broke into the dance. Regina knew the music word for word and beat for beat, having heard the custom mix over and over again for months.

_“Why a medley? Wouldn’t it be easier to use just one song?” Regina asked one night._

_“Because most of the songs with the best beats are inappropriate for kids to perform on stage. The hardest part is getting the best music, but cutting out anything even remotely racy. We can’t have f-bombs and talks of hos.” She laughed at the very thought. “So I end up jumping from song to song, trying to make a fun mix that matches the choreography I’m envisioning.”_

A massive grin split Regina’s face as she watched the kids dance, a mix of excitement, pride, and fear swirling in her heart. The dancers were mostly coordinated in the choreography, and were ridiculously cute trying to look hard and tough as they popped and locked.

In the middle of the number, the music segued into “Bust A Move” by Young MC, at which point the three boys pulled black sunglasses out of their pockets, put them on and walked downstage, clapping their hands over their heads in time, encouraging the audience to clap along. The crowd joined in and roared. Don, Kathryn, and Dave heard Regina bark out a half-gasp, half-laugh in delighted surprise. Henry looked like he was having the time of his life, hitting his marks and smiling, even though he was supposed to be the world’s most badass 5-year-old from the mean streets of Boston.

Just 2 ½ minutes long, the number — in rehearsal for 5 months — sped by quickly, and was soon over. The kids struck their end poses to hoots and hollers, Henry frozen, leaning on one hip, his arms crossed over his torso and his best attempt at a scowl plastered on his round face.

Emma beamed at the foot of the stage, clapping, and giving the kids a double thumbs up to express her pleasure.

“Nice job, Em,” Ruby laughed, as Emma reclaimed her seat. She checked the program and saw the remainder of her dances were with older kids, so she was off milk carton duty for the season. “Holy shit, they were cute.”

Emma nodded as she leaned back and heard a calm, mellow instrumental send a ballet number in motion. _They really were._ _For 5, they did a great job,_ she thought. And, more importantly, they seemed like they had fun.

Twenty-five rows back, Regina accepted whispered congratulations from her friends.

“He looked amazing!” Don enthused, as Dave leaned over and squeezed her arm.

Kathryn quickly added: “Was I right, or what?”

***

Mercifully, the recital drew to a conclusion an hour later. The dancers, who remained backstage after their numbers, strode on stage to a neverending loop of “Better When I’m Dancing,” taking their bows to continuous applause and slowly filling the stage. When all the performers were on stage, Ruby walked out from stage right with a wireless mic, stood center stage and began to introduce the staff, who took their own bows. One by one, the women walked out to applause, leaving Ruby to end with her best friend and personal favorite: “And last, but not least, Miss Emma Swan.”

Smile on her face, teeth shining bright and white, the blonde stepped out confidently and waved to huge applause. Regina’s breath caught in her throat at the sight before her. Emma was wearing a sleeveless scarlet cocktail dress that cinched around her neck and flared slightly just above the knee. The garment — and matching shoes — displayed her fit body to perfection: the defined muscles of her arms and back; firm, chiseled calves; and a hint of cleavage via a peek-a-boo opening in the bodice. Her plentiful hair was swept neatly into a chignon updo.

“Jesus, Hot Body looks amazing,” Kathryn whispered, still clapping. She elbowed her the brunette. “I’m starting to think you like the d. There’s no way you’re gay anymore if you’re not making a move on that.”

Regina barely heard the remark, captivated by Emma on stage. The blonde in question looked out into the audience, trying _not_ to look like she was scanning for someone in particular. She only got about 10 rows back before her vision — and the dim lights — made it impossible to make out her girlfriend. _I have a girlfriend. Wow._

“Thank you, everyone,” Ruby continued as the clapping died down. “And now I’d like to introduce our graduating seniors…”

One by one Ruby announced the five girls, starting Emma’s least-favorite part of the entire season. She had known these women since they were 8, and as they walked down the line of staff, hugging each person, she started to tear up. She was prepared, though, years ago having the forethought of concealing a tissue in her hand to keep her makeup from running down her cheeks.

“Oh, here goes Miss Emma,” Ruby chuckled into the mic. “It’s an official recital now.”

Teary, the blonde raised her hand in acknowledgment, as the crowd chuckled. Normally not one for public displays, she was OK with a few public tears; it signified to the graduates — and the crowd — how much Emma cared for them and loved being their teacher.

“One more thing...” Ruby began. Emma wiped her eyes as she watched her friend. End-of-show MC was normally Granny’s role, and Emma was so proud of Ruby, who sounded as natural and professional as if she did this weekly. “The staff and I want to thank you all for your support all year, your support of our dancer Maggie, and especially over the past week.” The audience clapped heartily in support.

“And it makes me proud...” Ruby’s voice wavered, forcing her to pause for a beat to swallow the emotion, “...proud to introduce Mrs. Eugenia Lucas.” A mix of gasps and cheers erupted when Ruby’s right arm shot out toward the wings, from which Granny emerged slowly on the arm of one of the graduating seniors. Everyone on stage cheered, and Emma began to choke up once more as the crowd rose in a standing ovation for the studio owner as she made her way to center stage and her granddaughter. The staff and dancers knew the woman was backstage, but were all sworn to secrecy. The older woman watched the live feed on a monitor in the back, and kept a running commentary in Ruby’s ear via an earpiece throughout all three shows. The official line was that Granny was resting at home, recovering. But there was no way in hell she was missing all of the shows, and decided — well, demanded — to take a curtain call at the last one.

Emma smiled wide, as she reflected how good the woman looked considering the past week. Her color, speech, memory, and mobility were good, and she was being carefully monitored by her doctors — and Ruby. Granny reached the brunette and hugged her tight. Threading an arm through Ruby’s Granny took the mic: “Thank you all for your warm wishes and support. We had  a wonderful year, and we look forward to Season 24 in September! Have a great summer!” The staff — and the students filling the stage behind them — linked their hands and raised them above their heads, then dropped into bows to final rounds of applause. Dancers filed off the stage, as family and friends with sore posteriors began to creak and rise out of their seats. Emma turned to Granny and offered a warm hug.

“Wonderful job, Em.” She patted the blonde’s cheek with her palm. “So proud of you.” Emma kissed her cheek, pecked Ruby on the forehead, then made her way backstage. It was time to find Regina.

***

Carrying a purple gift bag, Emma threaded her way backstage, which at Denwick High School consisted of hallways and classrooms closest to the the auditorium converted for the day into dressings rooms, one for each class performing. Dance moms volunteered backstage to watch over each class, and those who didn’t were allowed backstage after the show to sign out and retrieve their dancer, who remained backstage when they weren’t onstage – watching movies or the live feed, eating Goldfish, and coloring for the littles ones, all things smartphone for the older set.

It took longer than she thought to get near Henry’s class dressing room, as she had forgotten about all the post-show pictures dancers and parents would request. She efficiently posed, smiled, and hugged all the way back to the classroom she was looking for, wishing her students a great summer and thanking the parents. The plan was to meet outside the Wednesday Mini Hip Hop classroom and make plans to leave separately (but at the same time) for their post-show early dinner. Yet, before she show, Emma discovered an even better idea — a dark, empty classroom next to Henry’s room. She figured and Regina could reunite for a few minutes and take the edge off not having touched or seen the other in days. She snuck in, smiling proud at her ingenious idea. As she spotted Regina, looking sleek in a sleeveless gray dress with a shallow cowl neckline, her stomach fluttered with anticipation. She hadn’t touched the woman for five agonizing days. She figured a little making up for lost time wouldn’t hurt.

“Psst!” she hissed as Regina approached, reaching out an arm to grab a thin wrist and gently tugging her inside the room. Brown eyes widened in shock until they registered who was doing the pulling. Then they lit up to match a now-beaming smile as Emma scooped her into her arms and maneuvered Regina against the classroom wall, both out of sight despite the thin vertical window on the heavy door, which she closed quietly enclosing them in semi-darkness.

“Hi,” Emma whispered, pressing her body flush her Regina’s, Eskimo kissing her slowly.

“Hi.”

Draped over each other, they were kissing deeply, mouths open, tongues sweeping, when the classroom door opened and the lights were turned on by...Ruby. Twin expressions of shock graced Emma and Regina’s faces, as the trim brunette shut the door behind her and leaned on a desk. A sculpted eyebrow rose, wordlessly. “We need to talk,” she began.

Emma’s mouth continued to hang open comically in a perfect o. Ruby’s face was stock still as she sat, still holding a clipboard and walkie talkie that had seemingly been attached to her left hand for the past week. Emma grabbed Regina’s hand for support and felt herself break out into a flop sweat, heartbeat hammering in her chest. Regina squeezed back gently.

“Ruby,” Emma stuttered. “I—”

“I know all about you two, Emma.” She nodded at Regina, “Ms. Mills.”

“But, how—” Emma’s eyes were blown so wide, Ruby had to fight off a giggle.

“—you told me everything the night we got drunk at my place.” Emma was stunned, she had no memory of a confession, no memory of most of the night, really. “First you got mad, then you cried like a baby at the fact that Megan ruined everything for you.” She stopped and smirked, addressing Regina. “Sorry if I’m destroying her image as a cool stud, but your girlfriend is a giant softie.”

“Wait…” Emma pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand, refusing to let go of Regina with the other. “You knew.” Ruby nodded. “You knew all this time and you never said anything?” Emma was incredulous, bordering on a little angry. Ruby never let anything go, but this? It made no sense. “Why didn’t you say anything?” She tried not to think of all the anguish and pain she could have been spared, not to mention Regina.

Ruby looked at her shoes for a bit, then met Emma’s eyes and smiled softly. “Because I knew how much this meant to you. You were so ripped up that night, then obviously way off up until recently.”

“How did you know about about…” Regina searched for the right word, “...recently?”

Smiling, Ruby continued: “After leaving Granny at the hospital, I swung by Emma’s with a bottle to see if she wanted to kill it with me. Her obnoxious Jeep wasn’t there, and I had no idea where she’d be. Then it hit me.” She chuckled at her ingenuity. “I drove by your house and, sure enough, the world’s loudest car was in your driveway.”

“But how did you know where she lived?” Emma asked, genuinely confused.

“She pays by check. I just had to look her up in our database. I didn’t stalk her.” Ruby snorted at the protective query. “Chill out.” She turned toward Regina again. “Then I saw her at the hospital Tuesday and happiness was, like, coming off her waves. Here her, ya know, mother essentially, is in the hospital and she comes waltzing in on a happy cloud. Not that she wasn’t worried for Granny, but it was so obvious something amazing had happened and all I could think of was you.” She looked Regina straight in the eyes. “I’ve never seen someone more in love in my life.” She stopped, then slapped a hand over her mouth. “Shit, I’m sorry, Em. I—”

“She knows I love her,” Emma supplied, a hint of awe in her voice.

Ruby’s eyes traveled to Regina, the question unspoken. “And I love her,” Regina announced, sliding an arm around Emma’s waist.

“Thank God,” Ruby exhaled. “I can’t see lovestruck, crying Emma again. Once was enough.” She smirked at Regina and tilted her head: “She’s all yours now,” a statement that was meant as a joke, but caused Regina’s heart to skip in excitement.

Emma’s thudding pulse slowed from frantic to cautious as she tried to assess Ruby’s mood. Was she mad? Curious? Supportive? She looked at her friend and launched the million-dollar question: “So, what do we do about the studio?”

“Ah.” Ruby dipped her head and then a soft smile started to grow. “That’s what I came here to tell you, but you were busy Frenching your girlfriend.” Regina felt her cheeks warm as Emma instinctively puffed her chest out proudly. “Granny is retiring.”

“What?” Emma’s jaw dropped.

“Yup. She told me last night, when we got home after the second show. She says the heart attack, even though it could've been much worse, made her realize it was time to kick back and chill. Said she didn’t want to cash it in without having some retirement to enjoy, like Pops.”

Regina felt Emma sway slightly, then caught her gaze. “She always said she was gonna be buried in that place,” Emma muttered, stunned.

“Well, she’s changed her mind,” Ruby announced, matter-of-fact. “And I think that’s good.”

Emma nodded. “No, yeah. I agree. Of course...is she selling the studio?”

Ruby shook her head, a canary-eating smile pulling up the corner of her lips under high, pronounced cheekbones. “Not quite. She’s giving it to me.”

“Oh, my God!” Emma exclaimed happily. She let go of Regina’s hand and engulfed her friend in a huge hug.

“I’ll run it and give her a monthly cut to ensure she has enough to pay her bills and hit Foxwoods every once in awhile. She’ll still get the tax benefits and it keeps me from taking out a loan to buy the place outright; and I can still keep my clients in the mornings. She may come in and work the desk every once in awhile, but the rest…” she exhaled, the gravity of the job starting to sink in. “...that’s all me. And, as my first official act of my...reign,” she smiled, “I am lifting the no-dating thing.” She turned toward Emma and squeezed her bicep. “I always thought it was kinda stupid, anyway. I don’t want to pressure you, but I don’t want to do this without you.” She looked away, uncertain. “You don’t have to answer now…”

“Rubes, of course.” She leaned in and hugged her friend once more.

“I don’t mean anything heavy lifting, like the last week,” Ruby clarified. “Just teach and be a sounding board, stuff like that.”

Regina’s hands were clasped in excitement, her heart impossibly full at the turn of events, as well as the obvious love and affection between the two best friends.

A loud “Ruby?” squawked out of the walkie on top of the clipboard, splitting the calm, happy mood in the room.

“Yeah?”

“Have you seen Regina Mills? The dressing room parent in the Mini Wednesday room says her kid’s the only one not picked up. Wanted to make sure there wasn’t a problem.”

Regina’s eyes grew two sizes as she gasped. Ruby chuckled and keyed the Talk button. “There’s no problem, I saw her. She’s back here somewhere, probably talking to someone.” She winked at Regina. “I’ll come pick him up so the parent can go, and we’ll hang until we find Ms. Mills.”

“OK, I’ll tell her.”

Ruby pushed off the desk she was half-sitting on and smiled wide, “Well, I gotta go. Seems l have a date.”

“You don’t have to—” Regina began apologetically, only to be stopped up an outstretched palm and a grin.

“It’s no problem, _Regina_ ,” she smiled warmly with a respectful dip of her head. “I’ll go keep him company, we’ll chill for a bit. I feel like we’ll be hanging out in the future a lot, anyway; we should get to know each other.” She winked again.

“Rubes…” Emma grabbed Ruby one more time and hugged her fiercely.

Ruby pulled back slowly then rubbed her hands up and down Emma’s upper arms a few times. “Em...you deserve this.” Bussing her friend on the cheek, she keyed the walkie once more, announced, “Tell Mr. Mills I’m on my way,” and sauntered into the hallway.

Regina and Emma remained where they were, unmoving for a few seconds, trying to process everything that had occurred in the past 10 minutes. When Regina finally looked into Emma’s eyes, she found them watery and unfocused.

“I don’t believe it,” Emma whispered.

Regina crossed to Emma and gently pressed them together, tucking her head into the crook of the blonde’s neck, like it was always meant to fit there perfectly. “I’m so happy for you, sweetheart.” She chuckled, squeezing her arms a little tighter around Emma’s back. “I’m so happy for _us_ . We get to be an _us_.” She felt a hand stroke her hair slowly and Emma’s chest contract and then expel a heavy sigh.

“I’m scared. Things never go this well for me. I should be happy about this, but I’m scared.”

“About us?”

“God, no.” She pulled out of Regina’s grip so she could look her in the eye. “ _Never_. It’s just...like, waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Regina cupped Emma’s cheek with a warm palm. “You have not had it easy in the past, but that time is over. You’re not alone anymore. What happens, what comes, we face _together_. The glass is half-full. Time to start believing it.”

Emma nodded, eyes still downcast.

“I know this was a lot to take in, are you sure you want to join us for dinner?” Regina began lightly, trying to brighten the mood. “My friends are a little…,” she hesitated, searching for the right word, “...intense. Well, Kathryn is, you know that. Don and Dave will adore you.”

Emma shook her head, “No. No, I want to.” She leaned in and slowly and thoroughly kissed the woman. “I’m not waiting, not another second.”

Their kiss was broken by the buzz of Regina’s phone, which bore the text **Where the fuck are you?** She showed it to Emma with a laugh: “Speak of the devil — literally.” Regina quickly replied _Be out in 5 minutes._

Emma exhaled, feeling better. She could do this, especially with this incredible woman at her side. “Well, Ms. Mills, time for us to collect Henry — in a completely professional manner, of course — and then feed me to the lions.”

She started toward the door, then stopped suddenly. “Oh, wait! Jesus! With all the Ruby stuff I almost forgot.” Emma found, then presented Regina with a flowery gift bag stuffed with purple tissue paper. “Something for you.”

“What?” Regina’s brows lifted.

“Open it.”

Removing the tissue paper, Regina lifted out a soft, obviously well-loved heather grey hoodie, bearing “Step In Time Dance Academy” and the studio logo on the front, STAFF in big bold letters on the back, and “Emma” in embroidered script on the right arm.

“I couldn’t find my letterman jacket,” the blonde chuckled. “And you needed at least one other piece of nightwear."

“Oh, Emma.” She kissed her love softly, then replaced it in the bag. “I’m wearing this tonight,” she promised, eyes narrowing to slits. “Then, I’ll leave it on the bedroom floor.”

Emma stole one more quick peck as she placed her hand on the small of Regina’s back, opened the door, and ushered her through, out of the dark room and into the bright hallway. Emma smiled, as happy and content as she could ever remember, hope thick in her voice as she followed Regina into the hallway: “I can’t wait.”

  
**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much to say!
> 
> 1\. Thank you one more time to Angie, who beta’d and cheerleaded (cheer-led?) me from Word 1. We would not be at The End without her.
> 
> 2\. Thanks to those who reviewed and left amazing, inspiring, wonderful words. They were (and are) so appreciated. It was amazing to hear from familiar DED-heads and new readers, and it was so very appreciated.
> 
> 3\. If you’re reading this, that means you got to the end of my story. By my math, as of posting the final chapter, 2% of you left a comment. Were you one of them? In my opinion, reading a whole fic and not leaving even a “thank you” is like enjoying a meal and not tipping your waitress (kudos are nice, but they don’t tell me anything about what you liked or didn’t). And, worse, it’s killing fandom creativity (all fandoms, not just SQ). There’s a very well-written post here: http://absedarian.tumblr.com/post/157069800017/ghastlydisco-scifigrl47-stoneyboboney. If you love fan fic, please read it.
> 
> One of the rebloggers astutely noted: “ …random fan[s are] demanding more fic but not actually doing anything to encourage it. If you want us to create stuff, let us know we’re not shouting into the void. Engage with us. Discuss plot points with us. We create for ourselves - but we post for you.”
> 
> Asking for comments is not requesting an ego stroke, it’s asking *you* to help *us* create more — and better — stories.
> 
> If I get an idea, I write it because *I* want to know what happens. But comment interaction is really crucial as I go along. *Every* one of my multi-chap fics changed because of a comment I got along the way. The comments made me look at a character or situation in a different way and write accordingly, and in every case the stories were better for it, IMO. “If The Blazer Fits” was originally supposed to be 3 chapters and about 10K words. One comment changed everything and it went 20+ chapters and 70k+ words. DED enjoyed many different developments, and in this story, 2 comments early on led me to come up with the whole Sunday dinner at Granny’s then getting drunk with Ruby scene (one of my fave to write), which had a direct line to the final scene. None of that would have happened without your comments.
> 
> You can leave a comment or not, I can’t force you. 
> 
> But, in the long run, if you love fan fic it’s critical you understand: You’re not short-changing me (or any writer) when you don't comment, you’re short-changing yourselves of more material down the line.


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I never intended to write an epilogue, but many of you asked for one, and, thankfully, the Muse delivered. (That bitch has stalled for 2 years for a sequel to Down East Decisions, but came through on this. Go figure.) Thank you for supporting this story. Enjoy!

Emma awkwardly plopped into her annual front-row seat, trying to make herself comfortable. A soft click to her right signaled Ruby turning on the microphone; the show was about to begin. She could just make out her best friend’s elegant profile in the near-dark, and her heart warmed with affection and appreciation as she heard her begin the introduction in a polished, smooth voice that in no way resembled her day-to-day tone:

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Step In Time Dance Academy’s 25th annual recital. Please refrain from any flash photography and silence your cell phones. Also, we request you please stay for the duration of this afternoon’s performance, regardless of when your child is finished.”

The blonde chuckled silently as she imagined Kathryn, somewhere in the inky black auditorium, swearing under her breath.

“The dancers have an amazing show planned, and we want you to enjoy it all. So, on behalf of our staff and students, Step In Time presents our Silver Recital 2019!”

The stage lights rose, revealing a huge backdrop, an illuminated skyline that stretched the length of the stage. Music thundered out of the speakers, heralding the teenage company dancers who appeared in sparkles and smiles as the heavy maroon curtain slowly opened. She reminded herself to have Ruby send Don and Dave something nice for all their help; Step in Time’s backdrops and props improved tenfold since the men entered Emma’s life. Just 6 feet away, the thuds and creaks of the wooden stage could be heard over the loud music, as the floor protested under the powerful work of the young women who leaped and landed to the brassy jazz beat. As three dancers moved downstage and transitioned into whipping, fluid, fouette turns — all muscle, speed, and balance — Emma got lost in thought. It had been two years. Already?

It certainly seemed like it was just a month or so ago when Emma and Regina picked Henry up from his dressing room and strode into the school’s front lobby, where they found Regina’s friends waiting to go to lunch. The arrival of the expected two — and their surprise plus 1 — elicited excited gasps from Don and Dave, followed by huge smiles. Kathryn had walked off to make a phone call, and by the time the trio reached the men, she was just rounding a corner to return.

“About freakin’—” The last word caught in her throat as she processed the scene. Regina and Henry, with the latter holding Emma’s hand proudly, swinging it back and forth in excitement as he bounced on the balls on his feet.

“Auntie! Miss Emma is gonna come to lunch with us!” he beamed.

Emma looked at Regina, who was pink in the cheeks and bearing the world’s biggest smirk she had ever seen. _Gotcha._

Don stepped forward, a broad, knowing smile on his face, “I’m Don. Wonderful to meet you.” Emma was immediately struck by his warm voice, as well as his smart attire: light gray suit, lightly pinstriped white shirt, and purple tie.

“Nice to finally meet _you_ ,” she replied, “I’ve heard quite a bit.”

He shot a wink from his kind face. “Likewise.”

“I’m his better half,” Dave added, extending his hand. “Don’t let him tell you otherwise.” Emma squeezed his hand and turned amused eyes toward the remaining party.

“And you know Kathryn,” Regina announced proudly.

Emma had been unsure of Regina’s planned ambush, but trusted her enough to anticipate her friend’s reaction. Plus, they were in public — with Henry — how bad could it be?

Four adults and one child focused on the woman, who was shaking her head, lips jammed together as she tried to swallow the smile that would signal her defeat.

“Really?” she drawled. “Alright,” she sighed, stepping forward to draw Regina into a hug. “You got me. Well done.”

Emma watched Kathryn’s smile burst through when she hugged her friend, whispering something in Regina’s ear. The brunette nodded, then bussed Kathryn’s cheek.

The blonde turned toward Emma and stepped into her space, pulling her into her arms. “I’m a hugger. Get used to it,” she warned. While Don and Dave chuckled about “grievous bodily harm” and “unwanted advances” in the background, Emma caught Regina’s eyes, which were moist. Her heart squeezed at how impossibly happy the woman looked, and she mouthed _I love you._

Kathryn let go and patted Emma on the back. “First, Regina, _well done_ ,” she husked. “Second, I am—” she paused, rethinking her adjective choice given Henry’s presence, “really, _really_ hungry, so let’s get a move-on.”

The new party of 6 walked out of school together, Kathryn’s arm linked through Emma’s. “Now, we _have_ to talk about the length of that show….”

***

Eduardo’s sat on the water across from Boston’s Columbia Point. A brilliant blue sky and bright sun bounced off the cove, basin, and channel in the immediate foreground, almost blinding in its intensity, with the JFK Presidential Library, the Old Harbor, and Dorchester Bay beyond. If you looked hard enough, you could see Fort Independence and Southie sit proudly on the horizon. Thanks to a client of Don’s, the party was seated in the prize section of tables in front of a wall of windows overlooking the water, so close you could see the gray-green water lapping at the old pier moorings and hear the seagulls squawking at anything and everything, as they were wont to do.

As Henry watched the seagulls soar and dive (“They’re rats with wings, Henry,” Kathryn declared), the first round of drinks was delivered, glasses raised in a toast. “To…” Don dipped his head at the couple, the acknowledgment understood, as they all were cognizant of the fact Henry was still unaware of the recent developments between his mother and dance teacher. They all touched glasses, Emma squeezing Regina’s hand under the table.

“Uh, I saw that,” Kathryn sang. “Let’s keep it PG, ladies.”

Emma sipped her wine, then placed her glass on the table, turning to Regina: “She’s scary,” she deadpanned.

“She’s a keeper!” Dave declared, toasting Emma once more.

The adults talked recital with Henry, hearing his version of the show, his favorite parts, and what he did backstage.

“Are you going to dance next fall?” Dave asked.

“Yeah, with Miss Emma!” His grin was stretched impossibly wide, a jolt of affection warming Emma’s chest.

“You better not be dancing with Miss Gretchen!” Emma joked.

“No! Just you.” His statement was so matter of fact, Regina looked like she’d melt into a puddle. Kathryn unlocked her phone, swiped and tapped, then slid it over to Henry, who grinned with delight and began opening the folder of apps she kept just for him — their secret.

“Alright, I can’t take it anymore. Tell us how this all went down,” she requested vaguely, aware of little ears. “Last I saw, you were the most,” she dropped her voice, “heartsick person I’d ever seen.”

Regina’s eyes blew wide. “Oh, c’mon,” Kathryn dismissing the unstated protest. “Pretty sure that doesn’t surprise our new friend.”

Emma shook her head with a small grin. “I was even worse.”

Enraptured, Don and Dave leaned closer to the new couple to hear the story, as Kathryn drew her fingers back toward her palm. “Let’s go, ladies: dish...and don’t leave out the good parts.”

The women carefully recounted the past nine months, from the moment they met (Kathryn particularly enjoyed that interlude) to their meeting with Ruby 5 minutes before they all met up.

“It was meant to be!” Don announced, upon hearing of Ruby’s new role as studio director and subsequent dismissal of that pesky rule.

“It’s kismet!” Dave proclaimed, upon which Don quietly launched into an impassioned, “Take my haaaaand, I’m a stranger in par-a-diiiiiise…” from the musical of the same name.

“Well, thanks you two,” Kathryn snarked. “Now sexy story time has turned into boring showtune time.”

“My Alfred Drake is _excellent_ , thank you very much.”

“Much better than _my_ Doretta Morrow,” Dave snickered. “And better than our choice for you, _Lés Miserables._ ”

Amused, Emma and Regina enjoyed the dinner theatre before them.

“Rodgers & Hammerstein, can we not stroll down ancient Broadway lane?”

“Early ‘50s is hardly ancient, dear, it was the Golden Age!”

“God, really?” She turned toward Regina. “Make them stop!”

Emma sat back and marveled at the life that had unfolded before her. A woman to love who loved her back, a boy who thought she hung the moon, and a Greek chorus of wonderful — and wacky — people who loved her girlfriend beyond all measure and, she would come to learn, her. It was a ridiculous abundance of fortune in a life in which that had, to date, been sparse.

She patted, Regina’s thigh, then rose. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.” Dave watched Emma head toward the ladies room, then watched Regina eyeball Emma leave, all long legs and toned flesh. Caught looking, she turned and blushed a bit.

“So happy,” Dave short-handed, brown eyes brimming with happiness as he squeezed her hand across the table.

Kathryn stood with a quick, “Be right back,” following the same path as Emma. Regina instinctively rose to head off whatever she feared was coming, but was stilled by Don’s hand. “Let her go,” he soothed. “She won’t cause trouble. I’m sure she’s doing something stupid and noble.”

“Mostly stupid,” Dave added.

“But—”

“Honey, she won’t scare her off, relax. Nothing,” he jerked his head toward the ladies room, “is scaring that off.”

“I feel like we should continue this discussion later in an adults-only environment,” Dave announced. “I think we’re 15 minutes from resorting to Morse Code on the water glasses.”

Emma was just finishing washing her hands when Kathryn exited a stall and took to the sink beside her. They locked eyes as the latter began to lather her hands.

“Shit, are you gonna jump me?” Emma asked, only half joking.

“What? Why on earth would you say that? Do I look like someone who would,” she spat out the term like she’d never heard it before, “‘jump’ someone?”

“You look really intense.”

“I’m an intense person,” she informed with a nod. “Best get used to that.”

“Did you really have to use the bathroom or are you here to corner me?”

“Half and half.” Kathryn reached for a towel to dry her hands and thanked God this bathroom didn’t have an attendant and was currently empty save for themselves. She didn’t want an audience for this. “Not so much corner, but explain.”

Emma leaned against the wall in a small sitting room that led to the door and waited, while Kathryn touched up her makeup in the mirror and began: “Regina is my best friend. We met when we were 9. I was the first person she came out to. And in all the years I’ve known her, I’ve only met two of her girlfriends.” She paused and continued. “I think she only had two she actually _dated_ , and it wasn’t for very long.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, arms wrapped around her torso.

“Anyway, they were bitches, but I like you.”

“I’m sensing there’s an ‘and’ or ‘so’ here.”

“See, you’re smart. Another point in your favor.”

“Are you keeping score?”

Kathryn turned and tugged on her sleeveless white-and-black sheath that was stubbornly bunching. “Sort of. Anyway, _so,_ don’t break her heart.”

“I wou—”

She held up a palm, silently requesting she pause.

“Don and Dave have _never_ met anyone Regina has dated. Hell, she hasn’t dated since long before she got pregnant.” She loudly pushed out a forceful breath and pressed on: “What I’m trying to say,” a watery laugh caught in her throat, “is that she doesn’t _do_ this.” She pointed beyond the bathroom door. “She doesn’t bring a girlfriend to dinner with her closest friends and her kid. This is all new, so 1. Bear with her, she may not be good at it.”

Kathryn’s blue eyes grabbed Emma’s and held them. “And,” she finished softly, “2. Don’t break her heart. She is so happy. And that makes me happy. And I can’t imagine what a fall from this would be.”

Instead of threatened or chastised, Emma felt love and respect. Kathryn’s all-consuming love for her friend and respect for Emma. She walked over to Kathryn and embraced her gently. “I’m a hugger,” she grinned. “And the last thing on Earth I would ever do is hurt Regina. She is the most amazing…” She stopped to find the right word. “...blessing I’ve ever had.”

The women walked back to their table together and nearly laughed looking at the half-nauseous, half-worried look on their mutual love’s face.

“Everything OK?” Regina asked warily.

“Everything is great!” Kathryn declared, lightly clapping her hands.

The men and Regina looked to Emma for confirmation. “Really,” she confirmed with a nod, squeezing Regina’s hand surreptitiously.

“Great, they’re already trusting you more,” Kathryn snarked. “Juuuuuust great.”

***

Recitals always made Emma nostalgic and sentimental: the costumes, the excitement, the buzz in the audience, and the overall feeling of completion and achievement after 10 months of work. As she watched the numbers go by, her mind wandered as she pictured the older dancers in their younger forms and reflected on how they had changed. The boys who grew into their ears and feet. The girls who were out of braces and turned into stunning young women. The teens, who as preschoolers used to fall over when they tried to passe, were now strong, graceful dancers interpreting music far beyond what Emma ever anticipated.

But everything was a little more emotional this year. Her eyes began to fill as she watched a beautiful ballet sequence set to a slow, Celtic-themed version of “Fight Song.”

“Oh my God!” Ruby half hissed, half-laughed as she heard Emma sniff and turned, catching light reflecting in watery eyes. “Already?”

“Shut up!” she protested weakly, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

“Regina owes me $10. We’re not even at #20 yet.” Ruby shook her head. “I knew this wasn’t a great idea…”

The violins soared, taking Emma’s thoughts with it…

“You’re not gonna cry, are you?” Ruby joked as she made the final adjustments on a sparkly, leaf-shaped diamond barrette that held her hair off her neck in an elegant chignon. “I mean, I know I look so good you _could_ cry, but your makeup is perfect, so I suggest you don’t. Can’t have Tammy Faye Baker walking up that aisle, can we?”

Emma’s lips lifted in a soft grin. Ruby looked amazing in a maroon strapless gown, shoulders hugged by a burnt orange wrap accented with flecks of yellow and brown. “What?” She checked her reflection in the mirror once more. “I look like fuckin’ fall foliage, don’t I?”

“You look amazing.”

Ruby examined her friend, who was beaming, possibly glowing with happiness. “You’re hardly sane right now, I can’t trust your opinion.” She sipped her wine glass and sat down in a surprisingly comfortable wing back chair. “However, you look quite lovely yourself.”

“What? This old thing?” Emma grinned, narrowing her eyes and holding her arms, palms up, out to each side.

“Yeah, like it didn’t take you — _us_ , actually — 2 months to find that. You, who wears the same sweatshirt 3 days in a row.”

A knock interrupted their couture debate, and both heads turned to see Granny peek her head in. “Just me, can I come in?”

“No,” Ruby sassed, refilling her glass.

“Tough.” Granny stopped when she got a full, head-on look at Emma in her gown, an ivory v-neck sleeveless lace dress with a mermaid silhouette and small sweeping train.

“Oh, Em,” she sighed, hugging her surrogate granddaughter tightly. “I had to get a good look before the action starts.” Holding Emma’s hands in her own, she stepped back and beamed, drinking her in. “You look incredible.”

“AHEM,” came a protest from the corner.

“You look nice, too.”

“Really? Nice?” Ruby rolled her eyes in a huff.

“It’s not your wedding day, you’re not supposed to outclass the brides.” She turned back to Emma. “Are you nervous?”

“For the ceremony, not the, you know, marrying thing. I just want it to go right for Regina.”

“Marrying thing?” Ruby barked. “Wow, what a catch Regina has in you.” She lifted her glass in a toast. “I hope to hell you didn’t write your own vows.”

“It will,” Granny assured, rubbing Emma’s bare arms in encouragement. It looks wonderful out there. Those boys outdid themselves.”

Emma swallowed a chuckle. Don and Dave were in their 50s, but they were as excited as kids when they heard of the engagement, and insisted it take place in their large, beautifully manicured backyard. (“I’ll finally get a trellis!” she remembered Dave shouting gleefully. “I’ve been asking for over a year!”)

Thankfully, the day was sunny and, for mid-October Massachusetts, warm, in the low 60s. Their friends had truly gone overboard, which was in opposition to a direct order from Regina who requested they do no such thing. (“As if I’d abide by that,” Don snorted.) An enormous white tent was erected on one side of the yard, half of which held a DJ booth and dance floor, the remainder featuring a bar and seven circular linen-covered tables for the meal, prepped for an intimate 50. White fairy lights hung around the inside of the tent, ready to illuminate and set the mood once the sun set. Dave and his trusty glue gun had a blast designing, then assembling, the candlelit centerpieces, which boasted seasonal arrangements of fall color and tall white pillar candles.

The other half of the yard was arranged for the ceremony. Draped in roses and greenery, Dave’s beloved white trellis was the centerpiece, standing proudly at the end of a maroon aisle runner, which split rows of white padded chairs on either side. Fall flower arrangements flanked the bottom of the trellis, with two large pumpkins and one small sugar pumpkin group off to the right. Regina had vetoed a scarecrow and hay bales when offered: “This isn’t an apple picking afternoon!” she laughed. Dave pouted for only a few minutes, an impressive victory, according to Don.

“Well,” Granny continued, “I’ll leave you to it. Almost time.” She pointed to her watch, which read 3:50. She pulled Emma in for one final hug. “I’m really proud of you, honey. She’s a wonderful person and you’ll have a very happy life together.”

Emma tried to swallow, her throat suddenly tight. “Thanks, Gran.”

“And don’t be stingy with the grandchildren!”

“I’ve already got you one,” she noted.

“And I love him to bits. But I want more!”

Letting go slowly, Granny headed for the door, pointing back at Ruby when she reached it. “You: Not too much,” she admonished tilting her chin at the wine glass in the brunette’s hand.

“What? I’m fine. I have to walk, like, 50 feet. I’m good.” Ruby rolled her eyes at her grandmother as she dangled a maroon pump off one toe and reached across her chair to refill her glass. “Though I’m also still kinda hungover from the rehearsal dinner...”

Granny passed Don as she walked out of the room, patting him on the shoulder. “This is your 5-minute call, ladies,” he announced. “Need you onstage in 5.” In his three-piece grey suit and maroon tie, Don was relishing his role as “stage manager” so much, they were expecting him to ask to borrow Ruby’s wireless in-ear mic and walkie system.

“You got it!” Ruby replied, slipping her foot back into her shoe and standing. “How’s the other bride? You know, the good-looking one.”

Don’s entire face lit up at the thought of the woman he had just left one floor up in the guest bedroom. “Oh, honey,” he sighed, looking at Emma. “So gorgeous, I may be on the turn.” Emma laughed, thankfully loosening the nerves in her chest, and pulled her friend in for a hug.

“You’re not too shabby either, blondie,” he added with a smile, heading for the door. “Next time you see me, he stopped to glance at his watch, “you’re coming with me. Got it? Your new life is starting on time!”

“Yeah,” Ruby chimed in. “Sooner we get you married, sooner we eat and then get dancing.” She swung her hips side to side. “You and me, Don!” she reminded with a smirk. “I already told the DJ “Dim All The Lights” better be up first or I’m not buying him any drinks!”

A huge smile split his face. “I can’t wait!” he shouted as he disappeared from the door, his footsteps echoing up the stairs one more time.

Ruby approached Emma and stood in front of her, adjusting the blonde curls that hung down lazily over defined shoulders. The dress was simple, but accentuated her figure perfectly.

“So,” she drawled. “Got any questions? Need wedding night advice?”

“Heh, yeah, I think I got that covered.” Ruby could practically hear Emma’s pulse pounding, the nerves had returned. “You guys are on the pill, right? Don’t want you getting knocked up right off the bat.”

Emma’s green eyes fixed on an indeterminate point beyond Ruby. She couldn’t wait to see Regina. To be married. And, yes, to get pregnant.

“You know we _do_ want that,” she noted.

“Yeah, you’re nuts, but whatever. We can always use another dancer, right?”

Emma hummed in agreement.

“So, if I did my research correctly, this is where I tell you something profound before you go out and change your life forever.”

“OK…” Emma drawled cautiously.

Ruby stepped closer and put her hands lightly on Emma’s shoulders. The gold cuff bracelet the couple gave her as a wedding present sparkled on her right wrist.

Opening her mouth and widening her eyes, she began: “I got nothin’.”

“What?” A sharp laugh ricocheted off the wall, white teeth gleaming aside burgundy lipstick. “Really?”

“Well, nothing special, I mean.” Ruby hesitated and dipped her head, the gravity of the event landing home. “I love you. You’re my best friend. And you still will be. You will be a great wife and a great mom. You’ve done good, kid.”

She hugged Emma one final time, then announced, “C’mon. “Let’s get you married.”

Don stepped into the room as they headed for the door. “Ladies,” he began solemnly, dropping his voice as low as it could go, “it’s time.” Out from behind his back he pulled a simple arrangement of cream-colored roses, which went to Ruby, and a more elaborate cascading arrangement that he handed to Emma.

The trio exited and headed for the backyard, where a string quartet played ethereal music to a backyard full of guests…

***

“Psst!” Ruby gently elbowed Emma in the upper arm. “You’re on after this. Stay alert so we can forklift you out of that seat.”

“You’re a shit,” Emma whispered over a grin. “I’m rethinking your role as godparent.”

“Can’t,” she noted eyes still fixed on the dance in progress. “I won the obstacle course.” Ruby did indeed win the event, which sprouted from a late-night drunken suggestion by Kathryn during a cookout in Regina’s backyard. Dave was chosen as godfather, and Ruby godmother, amid Kathryn’s faux protests. “But you’re already Henry’s godmother,” Regina noted. “What?” Kathryn spat, indignant. “I get only one?” Much to the delight of a tipsy Regina (who sober would in no way encourage this), a feeling-no-pain Don, and a drunk Kathryn and Ruby, the women raced around the backyard, vaulting toys, weaving in and out of lawn chairs, and up the ramp to Henry’s swingset, then down the slide. Kathryn got down the slide first, but fell over and couldn’t get to her feet, allowing Ruby to pass her and win. A sober Don and Emma laughed just as hard as their inebriated counterparts, Emma nearly wetting her pants thanks to the baby sitting on her bladder.

“Alright, motherlode, let’s go.” As the dancers exited the stage, Ruby left her seat and grabbed both of Emma’s hands, pulling her up and then helping her lower herself to the milk carton in front of the stage. “I can’t believe you wouldn’t let us get you a real chair,” she huffed. “This dance better be awesome.”

 _It will be,_ Emma thought, as she watched her Junior Thursday hip hop group strut onto the stage. Her chest warmed as she saw her 7-year-old son strike his opening pose, still 90% less badass than he thought he was. Her mind immediately raced to Regina, picturing her beaming somewhere in the auditorium, her thoughts reaching back as the music started, to a late spring day in May when a similar look graced Regina’s face not long after Henry’s first recital.

Just four days following that momentous Sunday, the women took Henry out to dinner at McDonald’s, then for a walk on the local rail trail. As they walked in the early evening, Regina held Henry’s hand on one side, Emma’s on another, and spoke.

“Miss Emma and I have become...friends,” she began, her memorized speech evaporating into the ether thanks to nerves. “Special friends.”

“OK,” Henry replied, unimpressed. “Mom, look the bird!” He let go of her hand and pointed to a hawk in the distance lazily circling in search of a snack.

Regina cleared her throat and continued, after a hand squeeze from Emma. It was time to be direct.

“Henry, remember how some families have a mom and dad, and some have two dads, and some have two moms?”

“Yeah. And some have only one mom or dad,” he pointed out.

“Right, of course. And you know how, say, Brian’s mom loves his dad?”

“I guess.”

“Well, I love Emma like that.”

Henry stopped, head tilting to one side as he scrunched up his round face, the women halting with him. “Miss Emma is your girlfriend?”

Emma couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped, Regina’s jaw dropping into an o. “How do you know about girlfriends?” she asked, incredulous.

“Mom, I’m not a _baby_.”

The group continued walking in silence for a few seconds as Regina regrouped her thoughts. “Yes, Emma is my girlfriend.”

He looked to Emma. “And Mom is your girlfriend?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I’m really lucky.”

“So, what am I?”

Green eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“If you’re girlfriends, what am I?”

“Uh, you’re my, er...Henry?” Emma offered weakly, unsure if she was saying the right thing. She was brand new to kids from a personal perspective, and Henry Mills just tossed her into the deep end.

The boy stopped to pick up a stick, examined it, then deposited it back on the ground. “Oh,” he began, catching up to the women who had stopped. “I like that.”

The women looked at each other, questioningly. Were they in the clear? Emma leaned in and pecked Regina softly on the temple.

“Are you guys gonna get married?”

Now it was Emma’s mouth that hung open, mind spinning.

“Well, uh, Henry, that’s a big decision,” Regina replied cautiously. “We haven’t talked about that yet. That would be later.”

“Oh, OK,” He ran ahead, out of earshot, stopping at a small bridge overlooking a stream.

“‘Yet’, huh?” Emma teased, leaning into Regina’s side playfully. “‘Later’?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to say! I didn’t expect him to bring up…” she couldn’t bring herself to say the word again, worried Emma would turn tail and race back to her Jeep. “...that.”

Emma let go of Regina’s hand and wrapped it around her trim waist, hugging her close. “For the record, I like _that_ . And _yet_ . And _later_.” She kissed Regina on the crown of her head. “Don’t worry.”

“My Emma, come and throw stones into the stream with me!”

“Uh, Henry, you can just call me Emma.”

“But if I’m your Henry, you’re My Emma,” he explained, as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.

Emma could feel her girlfriend relax and her body loosen as she looked up with a wide, beaming smile. The smile Emma now saw on stage was eerily similar to his mother’s; the older Henry got, the more he looked like Regina. And, despite all her reminders, the child could not stop smiling during his hip hop number, which while technically incorrect for the aesthetic, was absolutely adorable and perfect for her son.

She cued and hand-signalled the dancers through the number until they hit their end pose to applause, Emma swearing she could hear Kathryn cheering, “HENRY!” somewhere far behind in the dark. As the dancers strutted off stage, Henry turned, smiled, looked down at Emma, and blew her a kiss, a move that caused every woman in the audience to “Awwww!” in unison.

“What was _that_?” Emma laughed as Ruby helped her to unsteady feet.

“I _may_ have dared him to do that,” Ruby replied. “Now I owe him $5.”

***

Another recital was in the books, and not a moment too soon, according to Emma’s bladder and tired body. As the finale ended to thunderous applause and the house lights rose slightly, all teachers in the front row rose and efficiently filed to the stairs leading to the wings to head backstage for curtain calls. Regina’s heart squeezed as she saw Ruby help Emma to her feet, her wife awkwardly waddling thanks to her adjusted center of gravity and the circulation returning to her swollen limbs. The baby dropped a week earlier; Emma was carrying so low it looked like she could deliver at any time.

“She looks like she’s gonna pop,” Don noted sympathetically.

“She better hold out until Tuesday at 8 o’clock,” Kathryn interjected. “That’s my time in the pool. And, a reminder: ‘Kathryn’ is the name of champions — means pure, clear.”

Regina laughed, “Ruby threatened to kill her if she went into labor this weekend. And when we meet him — or her — then we’ll talk names. _Emma and I._ But don’t get your hopes up.”

“At least tell me if it’s on the short list.”

“No.”

Kathryn stuck out her tongue, “You suck.”

“Ladies—” Dave started, only to be cut off by the curtain call music stopping and Ruby striding onto the stage with her mic after all the dancers had filed on class by class. She thanked the audience and dancers, then introduced the staff, ending with, “Miss Emma Swan-Mills!” The crowd and dancers cheered, as Emma, in a loose, summery sundress, walked slowly over to Ruby, hugged her, and whispered something in her ear.

“Miss Emma says the baby is kicking like crazy,” Ruby laughed. “Obviously he — or she — already loves the stage. Way to go, baby!”

Seniors were announced, tears were shed, and the show was finally, officially, mercifully over. Emma headed backstage and found Regina leaning on the wall outside an empty classroom.

“I’m looking for my wife,” the brunette stated cautiously. “Blonde, incredible dancer, gorgeous…”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, that woman was here last year,” she chuckled. “I don’t know where she went.”

The pair walked into the empty room and embraced, kissing tenderly. It had become their tradition, 10 minutes to remember their beginning and decompress after the show and before their now-annual post-recital dinner with their friends. Emma rested her head atop Regina’s and simply breathed in. Just smelling her shampoo, her perfume, her skin, calmed her, made her feel refreshed.

“Oh, she’s right here,” Regina soothed. “I’d know those lips anywhere.” She tucked her head into Emma’s neck and rubbed her back. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Huge.” There was no denying that. Regina had been there herself — 39 weeks pregnant, swollen with fluid and heavy with child, was exhausting. Add on top of that the rigors of recital week: it was a wonder Emma was conscious.

“After dinner Ruby’s coming home and giving you a massage.”

“What? She’ll be wiped. No. Another time.”

“She was adamant. Said her table is already in her car. And we’re buying her drinks at Eduardo’s.”

“Well,” she sighed. “I guess I can’t say no, then.”

Regina smiled, “Nor should you.” She pulled out of Emma’s hold and kissed her on the lips once more. “What was that with Henry and the wink?!?” she laughed.

“That was all Ruby, she put him up to it. Did—” Emma stopped, inhaling sharply.

“What? Are—?” Regina’s voice jumped an octave with the unfinished question, afraid to complete the thought.

“I’m…” She took Regina’s hand and laid it on her hard, distended stomach. Regina’s panic subsided and her heart squeezed in pure, unbridled adoration and love as she felt the baby moving as best it could, no doubt unhappy with the tight quarters. “I’m OK. Kidlet is wailing on me something fierce today. Caught me off-guard.”

“No pain?” Regina’s eyes were serious and sober.

“None,” she assured, rubbing Regina’s hand. “General discomfort, but I swear no pain. But I gotta get off my feet. Let’s go get Mr. Charisma, the rest of the peanut gallery, and then eat.”

When they exited the room, they found Ruby and Henry waiting for them with twin shit-eating grins. “Memma! Did you see my wink?” he asked joyfully.

Emma wrapped an arm around his neck in a loose headlock and kissed his head. “I did, you big show-off. What have I told you about listening to Auntie?” she smiled.

“But she gave me money!”

Trailing Ruby’s cackle, the quartet strode out of the hallway and another completed season, and into the cusp of a whole new adventure.

 

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Answering a question I've received quite a bit: Yes, I've been to *a lot* of dance recitals. Everything Kathryn said, I've said. (She's also my favorite character to write.)
> 
> I know I left a lot of holes that could be filled in. I wouldn't rule out future one-shots if the Muse so dictates.
> 
> This was the inspiration for Emma's wedding dress, if you wanted to see it: http://www.babyonlinedress.com/g/v-neck-lace-mermaid-wedding-dresses-lace-up-sleeveless-simple-bridal-gowns-104041.html
> 
> Please support your local fic writer - would love to hear your thoughts.


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